I think about my mom a lot.
She passed away a few years ago, and I still carry her with me, but not completely.
Time has made parts of her disappear.
I can’t remember her voice anymore. I try, but it slips away.
I don’t remember the feeling of her hand, how she walked, or how she talked.
And I don’t have many photos of her.
She exists in my memory now, not in objects, not in recordings – just in me.
She changed from a person into a memory.
But the strange thing is, I didn’t choose what parts stayed.
Some memories faded on their own. Some never came back.
I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t agree to it.
It just happened.
And yet what remains now is mostly the good.
Not because it was all good, but because that’s what stayed.
Maybe that’s how love works. Or maybe that’s what time does to memory.
I don’t know.
We don’t get to choose what we remember or what we forget.
But what if we could?
I love you and I’m sorry.