Memories sneak up on us at random times. I think about my best friend from elementary school quite often. We lost touch after I moved away (and to be honest, I don’t think her mother approved of us being friends, since my family was so poor). After two decades of wondering, I’ve found her on Facebook. There’s a strong urge to write her, but I don’t know if she even remembers me, or remembers me fondly if she does remember me. Still, I have an urge to write her, to let her know that I remember her, and I regret losing touch with her. It seems like she’s lost some of her dreams, too. I don’t know what good writing to her would do, but it would be something.
Two days ago, a college classmate of mine died of cancer. It’s been really hard to process it–I’m still young enough to see cancer as something that isn’t supposed to cut us down in our prime–heck, we haven’t even reached mid-life yet!
But there it is: memento mori.
Like my friend from elementary school, I lost touch with him after we graduated. It seems like that happens a lot with people I consider friends–we touch lives briefly, then forget to write.
Will anyone besides my daughter remember me when I die?
Will anyone notice?
Will anyone care?
My memory is written in sand. One day, the tide will wash it away. There will be no memory of it being there. Even if I carve my memory in stone, time and tide will eventually wear it away. Perhaps my descendants will talk of me in that same cobwebbed haze that permeated my mind when my late aunt and my dad talked about genealogies and family lore.
Who will remember now?