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.