There will come a day when my mom does not remember me. If you ask anyone ‘what do you fear the most?’ the answer is, the day my mom will not remember me. The day I cannot remember my own name is probably second to that. To look into a mother’s eyes and see emptiness cloud the memories of holding you, your first steps, your first words, your first day at preschool, everything she dreamed you would become. The eyes that have witnessed my whole life. Even before I existed, you dreamed of me, you sang to me. Even before I was alive you imagined my future. If I was in pain, you experienced ten times that, and if I was in joy, you experienced a thousand times that. I lived, seeing the love for me reflected in your eyes.
And I worry, when those eyes look back at me and don’t realize who I am, a part of me will stop living. But also, maybe you deserve that—one final moment where you are alone with only your own body to be responsible for. Have you waited your whole life for this time? Maybe knowing that, I will be able to say goodbye.