Forget Me Not | Teen Ink

Forget Me Not

June 21, 2015
By Isabelle Lockhart BRONZE, Needham, Massachusetts
Isabelle Lockhart BRONZE, Needham, Massachusetts
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

“Dad!” I scream up the spiral of stairs, clutching the handle of my bag in a vise­like grip. “Dad! We’re going to be late to Grandma's!” He comes tumbling down the stairs, glasses askew, and skids to a stop at the bottom. Then, he looks at me, one exposed gaze full of confusion, and mumbles, “Where is my daughter?” My breath forgets to flee my mouth. The doctors predicted this would happen. They were the ones who diagnosed him with the greedy mental condition that is devouring his remaining memories and sanity, and as I speak, licking its lips and diving in for more. I stare into my father’s bewildered eyes, wanting to unleash my demons of frustration upon him, but only cold silence comes out. Taking a deep breath, I tell him levelly: “I’m right here. It’s me.” And without another word, I take him by the elbow and guide him to the door.
The car ride to grandma’s is composed of deafening quiet. One of Dad’s hands is on the wheel, while the other is firmly hugging my fingers like he never wants to let go. After a moment, he reluctantly pries his damp palm from mine and studies it for a moment, awkwardly turning his back from me. Suddenly, he jerks around. “Mia,” He whispers thickly. “That’s you, isn’t it?” Without uttering a sound, I grab his hand once more and gently turn it over to find what he was staring so intently at. There, on his calloused palm, are hundreds of names, all scrawled in spidery black pen. I pinpoint mine, right in the middle of the vortex of letters, then look up at my father. My eyes drown with flaming tears that fall on his skin and waltz with the murky ink. “I’m sorry,” he tries to say, but I shake my head and collapse onto his chest, crying for him and because I now know that he is trying to get better, and that my dad is still there, amid the smoky shroud of forgetfulness.


The author's comments:

I wrote this piece because there are multiple people in my life who suffer from the mental disease of alzheimer's, and I know how hard it can be on family and friends


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