You Will Remember When You Don’t Remember

Dear God,
Sometimes I imagine what it feels like not to remember anything. Who you are and where you come from. Or remember the people you love and the people that love you. Imagine being blank, not a memory, everything just faded away.
So, I walked to the park in my estate one late evening and there was this gentleman sitting quietly where I usually sit. I thought to take a space near him and share the park bench with him (that area was the best part of that park) but the look on his face made me pause. The look was neither angry nor happy, just bland. I smiled nicely and greeted him, but he looked past me to the next tree.
“That’s odd,” I thought. (Even if he didn’t know me, at least he would acknowledge my greetings out of courtesy)
I moved away from him and took another bench. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. As I sat quietly there listening to my favourite podcast, I felt the man’s gaze on me. Even when I looked directly at him, he didn’t blink or avert his eyes in courtesy, he just stared at me.
That’s odd,” I thought again (the estate is relatively very safe, and we hardly have unscrewed characters around, but this one was weird). Most residents are very high-profile retirees that have great pedigree in the state and the man did look the part. He was very well groomed, but something was just off. (maybe that bland look, a man as distinguished as he looks shouldn’t carry that look)
His stares were making me nervous, so I decided to get out of that space. Gentleman or not, groomed or not. I couldn’t be alone in the park with a guy that was staring me down. It was difficult to place his age because money had given him grace, but I mentally pegged him for early or mid-70s. He didn’t have the bearing of a man who would do stupid, but his blandness was odd.
As soon as I got up to go, he got up too and started heading towards me. My eyes went wide in panic. This was no game anymore. I frowned deeply and quickly searched the surrounding for a stick or stone or anything to defend myself with. Usually, that park was very isolated and quiet but surrounded by lots of houses. If I shouted, some of the gatemen from the surrounding houses will hear me, but before then, I needed to have the 1st line of defence. My eye caught a big stick lying somewhere to my right and I quickly made to pick it as the man advanced blankly towards me.
At that instance, I heard the shout of a young woman. “Thank God, he is here. Mummy, I have seen him. He is here”, the lady shouted into the phone she was holding.
“Dad, what are you doing here? We have been looking all over for you, why didn’t you tell anyone you were going out”, the very pretty and elegant lady called out in rapid successions, running towards us. The man he called dad was close to me now, but he turned and looked at the lady with the funniest kind of look I have ever seen.
“Who are you?” The man blunted.
The lady stopped in her track for a moment, then recovered herself and smiled kindly at the man. “Dad, I am Annie. Your daughter Annie, she said reaching out for him.
“I don’t have a daughter, the man stated gallantly snatching back his hand. “I don’t know you. Don’t come any closer”, he squirmed, moving towards me
I stared. (See drama)
The lady coughed awkwardly and scratched her nose but smiled gingerly. Her eyes clouded with tears, but she bravely smiled through it. She looked at me helplessly and tried again to coax the man or jog his memory, but the man was adamant. He has no daughter; he doesn’t know her.
Then the craziest thing happened.
He looked at me and smiled the sweetest smile ever and said… “I knew it was you. My darling Helen, where have you been?”
Honestly Lord, at first, I didn’t know the man was talking to me. I thought he was mistaken Annie for Helen, until his soft hands held mine. It was shaking visibly, but he held me.
I stared, Lord, I just stared.
We stood there while father and daughter argued about their identity, I tried process my new Helen identity. Then a young man and a woman drove up, parked and joined us. They happen to be the gentleman’s son and wife. They in turn begged this man to come home with them but he insisted that he didn’t know them, and that he wasn’t going anywhere near them. Yet he remembered me. For some reasons he knew this Helen and I was “The Helen”. He was willing to sit by me, go with me, a total stranger but he wasn’t going near his family.
I didn’t need any explanations. I knew what that family was dealing with. I have dealt with it as a very young girl. My grandfather had dementia when I was growing up. This scene I had in my hands with them, had happened a long time ago to me when my grandfather denied me in public and said he didn’t know me and was chasing me all over the streets.
I will tell you my grandfather’s story and I will tell you what happened to my gentleman friend. For today, my heart goes out to everyone who is nursing a loved one with dementia. It’s painful when someone you love forgets you, forgets your name or who you are to him or her. It hurst to see them struggle with their identity.
Now, I can imagine how you feel, Lord, when we forget you. When we deny you in public to cling to our imaginary life. I can imagine how it hurts you to see us struggle with our identity, walking around blindly not remember our royalty nor recognising our way home to the kingdom. I can imagine you calling us home and we don’t recognise your voice and deny we ever know you. I imagine how many of your children live with spiritual dementia today not because of old age, but because they are lost in the world. They have lost their memory, their identity, the who that they are.
I led that man home that day. I agreed to be “The Helen” so he can follow me home and with the help of his family, we got him home. So today, I pray that we who have lost our way may find a “Helen” who will lead us home to our maker. May we all be good “Helens”, seeking to help people find their way home.
This is your daughter, Lord, yes, I am “The Helen”, and I am checking in.