I think I lost a friend today. I did not see an obituary in the paper. We were so intimate at one time. We had eternal moments together and thought nothing could separate us but now apparently, they are gone. I did not see it coming and do not know why it occurred. But they are gone. I feel it.
They were here and now they are gone. I feel the lost. Memories are already fading. Memories are so feeble and anemic. But who needs them. We never remember people as they were only as we wish to remember them. And after a while of this misremembering are they even the same person.
I have asked people around me if they know of anyone I have lost. They only look at me with a strange look and say no. But who is this person I have lost and why do they linger inside of me. I think back to the different people in my life and identify if they are alive or dead. As I do that mixed feelings occur of this presence I once had. They say people do not remember what you say or did but how you made them feel. But my memory of whoever this is made me feel all the emotions. I feel detached from the memories but at the same time I feel every one of them.
I wonder if this memory has been replaced by another memory. Is that memory accurate or the former one? If I knew who they were I could ask a friend which is true. Maybe I am thinking of it too much. Some say if you let your mind rest and think of other things it will eventually come to you.
I remember an Italian restaurant I once patronized I had eggplant parmesan. The pleasure of the moment came flashing back to me but I could not put a face to it. I am feeling so many emotions over this person I have lost. My whole life seems to be blended with this person I have forget. They must have been important to me. Was it my mother or a partner? I cannot find the person in my head. It feels important that I remember. But no one around me seems capable of assisting with this problem.
Someone called out a name to me that jarred emotions and concern as if my being was saying do not forget me. Was that their name, Mr. Walcott? I find myself being wheeled down this familiar corridor. I must have been this way before. The assistant stops to open a door I know. I read the sign next to it Dr. Meeks, Alzheimer Specialist.