“Everyone goes back to where they felt loved. In a memory. In a thought, In a hug, In a dream.” - Linda Valentinis
Memories are stories of our lives. Stories that are not seen by anyone but self. And the way something is remembered can be very different from someone else who was within the same experience.
So do our memories tell the truth? Obviously what is true for one may mean something else for someone else. I don’t think that makes it any less real.
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| 🎨 kellepics on pixabay |
If the memories are not written, then when the person dies, those memories die too. A person’s whole self dies in more ways than just the physical.
For instance, Alzheimers, or other brain disorder, that eats away one’s memories, one’s self-recognition, is a horrible death. A long drawn-out one too. You are you within your memories. Without them, who are you?
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| 📷 rusterche on pixabay |
I no longer dwell on the memories that reflect difficult times. I do like to reflect on good times, good things. As time goes on and when and if my mind starts to descend into the hell that is dementia, I hope the last few remaining memories are the good ones, in the chance that as I lose myself, a part of the positive will remain in the shell that I become, so I do not feel so very lost.
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| me at 17 |
I remember me now. Let it be a good thing. Theresa M
“Everyone goes back to where they felt loved.
— gregorio catarino (@gregcatarino1) April 12, 2024
In a memory. In a thought.
In a hug. In a dream."
-Linda Valentinis pic.twitter.com/4eAXRjUmiY
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