In Remembering

There are secrets old folks hold. Years ago,

I worked briefly at a nursing home. It was

enlightening and frightening at the same

time. Back then, I thought that to live out

my last days like this would certainly be a

sorrowful shame. Like being swallowed

by a black hole, you have been taken away

and confined to a netherworld, a limbo

of anonymity to live out your last days.

Some afflicted with dementia and Alzheimer

can’t even remember their names. A medical

professional who specialized in those dread -

ful conditions once told me that although

memories of their past have effectively been

wiped away, many can still sing the lyrics

from songs which played such an important

part in their lives. That is why we often have

group singalongs, she told me. I recall a woman

who had lost all memories of her past. She no

longer recognized her husband of some fifty

years; had no idea who her children were

when they so infrequent came to visit. One

day, after her husband, who had come to

spent an hour with her, left and went back

home. She smiled at me and said, “My what

a nice man.” Holding back the tears, I nodded

in agreement. Many younger folks don’t get it

when older folks spend time alone with their

fondest and worst lifetime memories. Being

of advanced age myself, I can now say I under-

stand. No longer is there a knocking at the door,

as your best friend, whose name escapes you,

asks if you can come out and play; no more

lover calling with a bouquet of flowers for

an anniversary or birthday you can’t remember.

Frustrated, you keep searching the library of

faded and forgotten memories for all those

names. ‘Tis the season, and without a mistake

or hesitation, you sing all the words to, White

Christmas instead.

Chris Hanch 12-23-18