Thursday, November 30, 2017

Bittersweet Romance

I found myself crying on the toilet last night.

After Baby Bananaface had gone to bed the hubster and I found ourselves talking about our past. Our courtship. Our memories. Maybe, more accurately, his memories. I couldn't remember the vast majority of events, moments, excursions, and sweet nothings that he described.

My memory loss usually only comes up in passing. Often, I will feel bad about not remembering such cherished stories. Sometimes, he will feel frustrated and sad as well. Rarely, he lets it show and last night was one of those nights.

Our chat continued into the bedroom and into the darkness. At one point bringing us to the topic of love notes. Apparently I wrote many in our early days and the hubby keeps most of them in a little box. He brought out he box and we sifted through them all.

It was a bittersweet exercise. Seeing all those notes and doodles and revisiting that era of new love. Reading about our adventures as well as the struggles. The hubster describing the sparse furniture featured in our first apartment. My apologies for symptoms of yet-diagnosed disorders.

I could count on one hand the things I actually remembered. After we had read them all he asked, "Did that jog any memories?" I shook my head and shrugged, "Not really. No." My eyes teared up and his brow furrowed. He tried to comfort me and tell me that some of the memories could still back. Grief was in his eyes and lumped in my throat.

Rolling over in the bed, I excused myself and trudged to the bathroom. Tears gathered on my cheeks before I cleared the hallway. By the time I finished peeing I was smothering sudden short-lived sobs.

It was a brief, deep grieving. In that moment I wasn't just acknowledging the loss, I was recognizing the countless moments over the past couple years that the hubs had accommodated my memory loss, supplied information, or concealed his own frustrations and sadness. We try not to spend too much time thinking on it and that seems to work alright-most of the time.

Most of the time.

We're okay with that.

Even if we don't have the memories to share, we still have the love.


  1. Focus on the love...that will help you make new memories...

  2. Because I was abused as a child, I have no memories either. I didn't do it on purpose I suppose it was a survival technique. And I've been with my partner for 31 years now, and we've coped without the memories. :)

  3. Well, they say that all we really have is the Eternal Now, the present moment. That's the important thing and it's where we live our lives.

  4. Hannah, I hope this comment doesn’t come across as downplaying your grief. As painful as losing your memories can be I bet you have not forgotten love. You may forget individual moments but you will not forget the feeling of being cherished and cared for by your husband. In my job of working with people with dementia I cannot give the people I care for memories to hold onto. I can give them a feeling that will stay with them. They can be left with moments of joy, moments of compassion, moments of love. Having gone through some very dark years of depression, I have lost so many memories of my children’s growing up. But I do remember loving and caring for them. Tears are running down my face as I write a comment because I do understand and I know how much it hurts. Pull the memories of love close because those are the ones thay last.

  5. I get you and I don't feel like your downplaying anything! There is an immense amount of love and gratitude right alongside the grief. Those positive feelings outweigh the memories by tons. <3

  6. Sometimes, you need to feel grief for the things you've lost. It sounds like that you did that the other night in the best way possible-sharing it with your husband.

    BTW--this post was beautifully written and very moving.

    1. Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing it with all the ups and downs, smiles and tears :o)

  7. Thanks for the lovely photo and holiday wishes...Made my day!

  8. Sometimes, the memories of past sweetness makes me so nostalgic i get plunged into depression that those times are forever gone. Not that things aren't sweet in their own way now, they are just different. As you say, you have the love. That is what matters most of all. But I do understand. Hugs.


Thank you for reading and commenting!

Be well, HBF