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Post-concussion syndrome, aphantasia and sleep deprivation make me very grateful for modern camera technology and so on. If I am very bad at forming memories at all at present and incapable of visual memory, at least I have photographs.
I still fret about the many cute and wonderful things my child does that I won't remember.
I still grieve the memories that fall through my hands like sand of all that came before in my life.
Cancer has stolen so much from me. Most of the time I could have had with my father as the man I loved and liked, and also now my father outright.
And also, me. So much of me. If I don't remember who I used to be, am I still that person at all?
Meanwhile, my not-yet-two-year-old son has an astonishingly good memory. Yesterday I started singing him a song he hadn't heard in a month or more and he sang along. He likes to recite his books as they're read to him.
He knows pretty much every word to some of the songs I sing him. He's now very clearly working on "the Man", which is what he calls We Will Rock You.
He doesn't actually like the chorus very much. He likes the verses.
Yesterday was the anniversary of my father's birth. I don't know if it counts as a birthday any more.Current Music: classic fm
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