My sister and I had this roundabout way of remind me of things I shouldn't forget.
"Kim, remind me," I would say, before telling her whatever it is that I should be reminded of. And then, at the end, there's a qualifier. "This is that kind of reminder," I'd tell her.
That means I don't really want her to remind me. It's really more so I would remember it myself. The act of telling someone else would, should, imprint things deeper in my head, help my recall, that sort of thing. It isn't perfect, but it's worked most of the time. And when it doesn't, she would remember. Should remember.
It's worked so well, though, that I started doing the same thing with Shalla. I'm pretty sure I've done that to her fairly more often now that we share a flat. Until lately.
I have been forgetting things more often these past few months. Mostly it's just small things like stuff I wanted to buy in the grocery. I really should do shopping lists, because until lately, I haven't had to. I always felt good about myself whenever I see another guy carry this long, printed-out grocery list. It was the early days of lockdown and, I assume, this guy was the "authorized person outside residence", and this guy is not the guy who does the grocery shopping. And there are a lot of them. And then I realize I have to call my mother to consult about what else to buy to make this recipe I'm thinking of working on, and all that feeling dissipates.
Today, though, I found myself resetting my Apple password, just one weekend after resetting it. In both instances, I forgot about it.
I'm increasingly convinced in these past few months that, if I won't die of a heart attack, I will fade away, forgetting anything and everything, until I forget how to live, and just plop dead. It's probably in the genes. My great-grandmother forgot who we are in her final years. My father is showing signs of memory loss, too. It doesn't help that I'm reading up on Glen Campbell lately. I just watched a feature about his last concert tour, just after he announced his Alzheimer's diagnosis. I don't talk to a lot of people - they mostly choose not to - and so I often end up alone with my thoughts, and right now it's going towards how I will forget more and more things until I just don't remember much else. At some point, I'll forget the password to this blog and this whole affair will just end abruptly. Perhaps.
When I was young people talked about how smart I am. I didn't really do that well in classes - never enough to be on top, but good enough to be in second place. I just mostly remembered things. Still, I carried "matalino" as a badge of honor back in elementary, until acknowledging it means nothing in high school, when I started feeling what I thought was my lowest. It makes sense now, how the supposedly smart guy in elementary school would have a failing memory. Slowly, but surely. Eventually.
Anyway, we'll all be memories at some point, and memories are meant to fade and be forgotten, so why worry, right? Like that ever stopped me.