…. and i’m not talking about “widowed life” in the way you might think.
Before Greg died, I was that odd, nerdy, walking factorioum that could remember every appointment I had, every phone number I needed, every card number that I may be asked to use, every birthday, every task, every thing.
In. My. Head.
The events of That Day will never be forgotten, but I have large gaps in memory for weeks and weeks afterwards.
I walked around in a fog for months. Like I was separated from the world by a hazy curtain that never lifted. Like I was staring in my own movie.
Clouded. Fuzzy. Detached.
But since That Day, my head has never bean the same again.
I forget meetings and details. I forget birthdays. I forget to return phonecalls and e-mails. I forget what I went to the shop to buy. I forget my own phone number. I forget parties. I forget family events. I forget so many things.
….and because I only ever wrote things into a diary or calendar so other people would have a copy of events, I never really got into the habit of using one. So I forget to write things into my diary.
I feel so embarrassed when even my fail-safe phone alert for meetings fails and I miss something important.
I hate it when I manage to remember something important for days in advance then forget it at the last minute. The crucial minute.
I hate it when I have to be reminded of something that seems such a basic thing to remember … and yet I have forgotten its very existence until that point in time.
People say its “old age” or “it happens to us all” or “you seem fine” or “what are you complaining about – I’ve always had to write everything down or I forget”.
But its not “just” any of those things. This happened virtually overnight. …and over a particular night where my brain was required to process information that it will never be able to make sense of.
My brain changed the way it stores information That Day, and it hasn’t recovered.
….and I wonder if I am the only person who has found this to be true…..