Forgotten, broken things

I am guilty of the number one sin of youth, forgetfulness. Not simple forgetfulness mind you, not the type where you wonder where you left your car keys or the name of the person you work with. The kind of forgetfulness I am referring to is the variety where one gets caught up in life, new job, new wife, house payments, fixing/buying new/old cars, doing a good job at work, all these things. It's a kind of forgetfulness that comes from too much seeking after things that don't matter as much in the long run. I am guilty of letting life speed by me with all of it's potential newness and forgetting that there are members of my family, extended family to be more exact, for whom life is winding down instead of up.

I dreamed last night about my grandparents house. Only they were gone, they weren't around and the house was empty of people. All the furnishings were still there but the house was empty. That one thought clung to me as I awoke and for a moment my forgetfulness disappeared. I remembered fond memories and the immaculate condition the house was kept and how I felt there. It was like being told to clean my room and stumbling upon a box of things that I had unintentionally shoved under my bed. The memories come flooding back as I look and examine the memories, like old toys, as they come out of the box, one at a time. This however is not a box of things that don't have feelings or any real value.

With the exception of my mother's father I still have all my grandparents. My remaining grandfather however has Alzheimer's Disease and seems to be fading at a rather predictable rate. When they are gone I will only be able to pull out the box of forgotten memories and ponder them one by one, but while they are still alive the possibility to create new memories to remember when they are gone is still a possibility.

At this point in my life everything is about creation. Creating new possibilities and wanting to create new things. With way more life behind them than before them life is about remembering, and that is where our worlds collide. As much as I love my grandparents the reminder that we all get old is hard. I was reminded this morning though that they are people, and they will eventually disappear, weather I want them to or not. Thus armed with this information I will seek to do something about it. I write this here to aid in my memory so that I won't relegate them to that box under the bed.

~B.