Love & Memory

From: Juliet
To: Felix
Subj: love & memory

Felix,

I just read your poem from the 13th. Itís got me thinking (good sign for you, Mr. Poet). Iím wondering if there can be love without memory. I mean, if you could remember nothing about the person next to you, would you know enough about them to love them? Iím thinking of things that have no memory of others – machines, for example. Animals, though, they remember others. Ants remember other ants by their smell, and dogs, oh, dogs have excellent memories. Except they forget everything bad youíve done to them. You yell at them one hour, and the next hour, you come home from the store and they love you the same as they always did. Or maybe itís forgiveness. Iím getting off track.

Memory doesnít necessarily yield love. But I donít know if you can have love without memory. Iím thinking of my grandma, who did get Alzheimerís. The last few years of her life, she didnít recognize my mom at all. No idea who she was. And she exhibited no emotion towards my mom, either. But sometimes she would mention my mom, in conversation. Sheíd mention the names of her children, and sheíd say this to my mom, as if my mom were a stranger: “Kay, my daughter, Kay, she…” Though she couldnít speak all that was in her mind, the sound of her voice said she loved my mom, based on memories of her. But the woman in front of her, whom she did not remember, she felt nothing for her.

So Iím going to differ with the poem on a larger, more subtle argument, which is that forgetting is painless and maybe even pleasant. Forgetting, in fact, hurts like hell. It hurts the people you are forgetting and, especially if you are willing your own forgetfulness, it hurts you. Because in doing so, you are telling yourself you were wrong to have loved in the first place. And you were never wrong to have loved.

Love,

—Juliet