I May Forget But I’ll Always Remember

Driving the Dead-End Road of Dementia

Mama and Me

I May Forget But I’ll Always Remember

by Cheryl Ambrozic

Who are we without our memories?

How hard it must be to feel them go

Who do we become without what we know?

A lifetime of happiness, smiles and tears

To not be able to recollect the years

To be, but not to be, who you are anymore



To dull the pain, her sin is gin

After one or two, she’ll share a few

Stories of youth, love, a long-lost face

She tries to retrace, but the details get misplaced

Like a Sorry piece in a Life game



These last few years, I’m brought to tears

Watching her memory slip away

When I pull her near, she’ll confess her fear

But assures me –

I may forget, but I’ll always remember

I may forget but I’ll always remember

The magic of Christmas in December

The family, the traditions I treasure

Long warm days of July

Blue sky and blackberry pie

Laughing with friends at the lake

When I scan my mind, only some I’ll find

But the feelings and meaning remain

Can’t you see, I’m still me

I may forget but I’ll always remember


Mama, please don’t fade away

Talk to me; help me know what’s real

Listen while I tell you how I feel

While you are still living

Know how grateful I am for all you've given

Mama, please keep your stories alive

So I won’t forget, so I’ll always remember

For five years, our family has helplessly watched as the tears in the fabric of mom’s memory have become holes that can no longer be stitched.

One morning while mom and I were having coffee, she began reminiscing on one of her and dad’s escapades. Having heard the story many times, I noticed how she couldn’t remember some of the cherished details. I tenderly helped her recall them. After the end of that awkward exchange, she looked at me and said, “I may forget, but I’ll always remember.”

Her poignant words give me some peace as I watch her struggle with her memory loss. I developed them into lyrics to shed a little light of understanding for others was they helplessly witness a loved one travels down the dead-end road of dementia.

When I read the lyrics to ma, she knew I’ve been listening, that I heard her. She knew the song was about her. With teary eyes, she said she could even hear the melody even though there was no music.  She told me, “This needs to be shared with others.” 

So now I try.