I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy

"He who remembers nothing but facts and past events, and is never brought back into the present, is a victim of amnesia." - Thomas Merton

Memory is a double-edged sword. I didn't say that. Robert Cooper Pond did. He was right. He has a hard time remembering certain things. I hope he doesn't mind me writing that. I on the other hand, do not.

I remember nearly every trivial thing that ever occured. I'm like Rain Man. Tell me your birthday, 20 years later, I'll remember you on your special day. Not to imply I'm some sort of genius. Even smart. I'm not. I thought a quarter 'til, was literally a quarter (read: 25) 'til for a very very long time. I'm embarrassed how long actually. The same way I'm embarrassed by the fact that my father had to convince my sophomore geometry teacher to let me pass because I was such a dumbass.

I just have this ability to latch onto trivial bits of information, and remember.

It is a great party trick to be able to tell someone you vaguely know their birthday. Or remember your anniversary. Need help naming that actor in that movie, what was it called? I'm your guy. What is not so great, and what cuts, as Buddy so wisely said is when you remember things you don't necessarily want to remember.

That's what I'm doing right about now. You see, Dear Reader, this coming weekend, a year ago in the rear view mirror, was the last time Mom visited our home. The last time she visited Dallas actually. The last time I was photographed with her.

It wasn't the last time I saw Mom. Just the last time I saw her at my house in Dallas, and one of the last times I saw her appearing healthy. She wasn't, of course. The cancer was busy, doing what it does, eating her up, inside. I didn't know that though. The same way I didn't know that a month later, 11 months in the rearview, would be the last time Mom and Dad watched the Boy(s) on their own as me and My Lovely Bride visited California. That was the last time, that Mom, was able to enjoy the Boy(s) at the level she wanted. To run with them. Play. Go to Putt Putt. A movie. It was the last time she was around us and was able to get around without the pain. She didn't need her cane then, which turned into a wheel chair. She didn't have the fear that she would become physically sick in front of them. Or that she wouldn't have hair.

Truly, that time, early April 2006 was last time I saw my Mom appearing healthy. She wasn't obviously. In fact she would be dead in six months time. The curse of memory. Fuck me. I forgot to remember to forget.

Until I BLOG again...What is closer to the truth.