I lost one of my pills dockets the other day. I also lost the ribbons which denote which is the front and not the back of my bag. I’ve lost so many things.
I did not lose my parents. My mum died. My dad died. That’s not the same as losing but it is a loss. A loss that I grieve for. Particularly on my youngest nephew’s birthday which is the same date as the anniversary of my dad’s death – 17 February.
It took a long time for me to be able to say my mum or my dad is dead. It sounded so final. People would offer condolences for my loss but I always thought – she/he’s not lost. I know exactly where she/he is, or rather I know exactly where both my mum and my dad are buried. Where they are now is perhaps different. They remain in my heart and in my thoughts. Especially when I lose things or things seem to disappear or mechanical/electrical things go wrong. I think my mum or dad are playing tricks on me. They’re reminding me to think of them. And I do.
What else have I lost? Well, I’ve lost my ability to remember things. My ability to remember my diary. I used to be able to keep a whole tour schedule in my brain as well as having it written down. I’ve lost my sense of spatial awareness and geographical awareness so I don’t remember routes. I will arrive somewhere and, when I come to leave, I can’t remember whether I turned left or right to get in and therefore whether I should turn right or left to get out.
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