From Moment To Memory

From Moment To Memory

By Kimberly Jensen

It rained all day on Memorial Day and spoiled our plans of planting flowers in my parent's flowerbeds. The rain also thwarted plans to drive downtown and visit the graves of my grandparents and Uncle Craig. Instead, we sat inside and made homemade bread while my youngest grabbed an umbrella and squatted on the back patio for a good part of an hour, mezmerized by the raindrops. As I watched the rain it reminded me of our makeshift "memorial day" earlier this year. I had driven with my kids and parents to St. George for a week. On our return home, we were driving the backroads of Fillmore, when my dad asked me to drive him by his childhood home and the graveyard where his grandparents were buried. It was raining that day as we pulled into the cemetary and my dad got out of the car and walked briskly to the back of the cemetary. At this stage in my father's Parkinson's Disease we often wonder where my dad is going and what he is doing. His actions don't always make sense and he often makes unreasonable requests and nonsensical comments. I followed my dad as he led me right to his grandfather's headstone, as if he had walked there a hundred times before. My dad stood there and told me how he would stay overnight at his grandparent's home and wake up to bowl of bread and milk and drizzle it with honey. The rain drizzled down on us as my father shared with me many fond memories of his grandfather. I held his hand and watched my three children stepping gingerly over the headstones and held onto the moment that would soon become just a memory.

The Importance of Writing Down Things to Remember

My step father was in the military so we moved a lot. When I was almost ten we moved to a wonderful place called Zaragoza, Spain. I LOVED it. The base is no longer an American base, but I can tell you where everything on that base was. From the theater to the swimming pool, to the school. I remember everything about that base, but I can not tell you how to get to where we lived off base. I remember what the place looked like, but I can not tell you the address or where it is today.
Next we moved to Madrid Spain, to a military base called Torrejon. We lived about 20 miles off base in base housing, and if you took me there today, I could drive you to the house we lived in. But, here we go again, I can't remember anything about the base. I had a chat with my sister who is four years older than me and she can't remember much about it either. I can't tell you if our school was all in one, like in Zaragoza, or if they were split up by elementary, middle school and high schools. I can't remember the theater, the commissary, the base exchange or anything. I can't figure out why.
What I can figure out is that if I would have keep a journal, or taken good notes, I wouldn't be writing this right now. So, take some notes, and when you take photos, write on the back of them who they are, when you took them and where it was.