Remember me – please?

This poignant plea uttered with both hope and fear.

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Made by a spouse who has lost a loved one. Quietly murmured to a friend, a neighbor, a caregiver. Silently directed at family members as they gather to grieve. Please keep caring about me. Call me to say hello and to ask how I’m doing. I may be feeling very sad and lonely but aching too much to reach out. It’s unbearably hard to admit this so often all we hear is please remember me. Plain and simple but a powerful need.

Made by the home bound. No longer able to drive and living alone. Unable to get out and go. Made by the resident of a nursing home as their visitor leaves the room. As they sit in their room, or in a wheelchair in the hall. As they lay in their bed and watch people walk by. How lonely it is to just exist. Independence gone.

Made by the family of someone with dementia, someone with alzheimer’s. The angst of living with and caring for someone who was once vibrant and engaged, watching their awareness and recognition slowly fade. Saying I love you to them then watching them wonder who exactly you are.

I’m your daughter. I’m your son. I’m your husband. I’m your friend. Please remember me.