The Third Piece


My jumbled head is trying to remember what I was doing just a moment before.  I knew I had gripped that thought good and tight, and still I lost it.  Instantaneously.  Soon I won’t even remember remebering that I forgot.  It gets so confusing I don’t even try to remember much any more.

It leaves me sad today.  If I was 80 it wouldn’t bother me quite so much I don’t think.  I don’t remember many things my son brings up.  Husband remembers, but not me.  Sometimes I’m convinced that I wasn’t there at all when anything happened.  I don’t remember most of our camping trips.  One year we went nearly every weekend, but I don’t remember where we would camp.  I think we used to do a lot of hiking. Husband and son could go on for ever it seemed.  After a while though, we stopped camping, then we stopped hiking, stopped bird watching, (Yes, bird watching), and I don’t know why.

Did life get so complicated that quickly?  Little league, basketball, drives to the mall.  Is that what took up all my time?  When I look back I have numerous holes I can’t fill in.  Just like in my genealogy.  I’ve got two pieces, all I need is the third, and it comes together.  Often I don’t get the third piece.

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3 thoughts on “The Third Piece

  1. If you were 80 you’d still mind. My mother-in-law went from a perfect mind and living on her own to a speedy onset of vascular dementia (mini-strokes). She finally had no choice but to accept moving in with my partner and I. She didn’t get along with her daughter and her other son was married with children, plus we had a great relationship with her. But she struggled every step of the way. Giving up power and independence is one of the hardest things anyone can do.

  2. I try not to, since I don’t forget anything important except whether or not I took my meds. That’s when I have to trust to routine.

    I don’t intend to grow old quietly. I’m getting ready to get into stand up (a long repressed dream) as soon as I work up the nerve to tell Husband.

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