Memory

Our phone conversation was progressing normally last night. We chatted about health matters, hers and mine. We talked about the grandkids promotion ceremony in Hutchinson. Watching the young girls looking more and more like young women and the boys obviously lagging behind. We both laughed knowing the time will come when those same boys will so suddenly grow (overnight) into young men.
Then, in the middle of our conversation, she said "I went to the cemetary. I wanted to place flowers on your dad's grave but couldn't find it." She went down all the paths, nothing was familiar.
I found myself holding my breath as she described what had happened.
She couldn't find his grave.
The man she had loved for 23 years.
The memory of his grave was clouded. Sometimes she can find it, but today was not this time. I could hear the tears and frustration in her voice.
I asked if she would like me to take her after I got off work. We could both lay flowers. She for dad, me for my parents.
That would be nice.

I have thought about this overnight.
The memory of his grave slipping out of mind is a good thing. What she remembers is the man she loved so dearly and misses still.
What I remember is being loved so unconditionally and still am.
I will keep the memory of where his grave is and take on those days when she does not remember. It is ok. Her memories are the best ones.