Journal
As we really begin to get into the subject of memory, I have begun to think about my Great-Grandmother who died from Alzheimer’s. She was about 80 when she died and my last and only memory of her before her funeral is from when I was about 6 or 7 years old when we visited her in the hospital. Although I do not remember much from the trip, I do remember the sort of blank way that she looked at us, as if not knowing or truly caring who we were. However, I do remember the way in which she clung onto my Great-Grandfather’s arm from her wheelchair. Alzheimer’s is a very curious disease and is one that I would never wish on anyone. Even dementia and being unable to place faces or even your surroundings is something that terrifies me. Although, in part, our ability to forget keeps us sane, I believe also that our ability to remember faces, experiences, and more keeps us sane as well. It is a tricky balance.
I pride myself in having a good memory. I self-proclaim myself as one that “never forgets a face,” when in reality I have found myself recently whether someone in one of my lecture classes has been there all year when they stand up to do a presentation. Diseases like Alzheimer’s and other conditions reminds us that memory is fickle and something that we should not take for granted. In the Buried Giant, Axl continues to use others to place himself and them in the sort of puzzle of his life; there is no real way without their help that Axl could function. This sort of dependence is terrifying in itself and although I am not completely through with the book I wonder whether someone comes to take advantage of this dependence if they are not already.