She is all but gone
Knowing how many chromosomes where in her brain or how many were dying every day as she disappeared didn’t help.
They had said it is like a record with groves, her memory would disappear last in first out, until the needle reached the centre and the last groves of memory played.
Her life as a child her brother as they played, their father home in the morning black with coal. She had talked fondly of these memories, hard but fair when she had been here with me. Is it a little comfort that happy childhood memories would be her last?
No knowledge of the man she had loved for 60 years and the children they bore.These all gone now.
She didn’t know me, called me Joe, and smiled. I smiled back but inside the tears flowed.
Now fear approached, and what for me?
