One Single Impression -- Fading Memories

This prompt immediately made me think of my mother who suffers from mild to moderate dementia, and whose memory (and memories) are indeed fading rapidly. A few months ago, just after the election, she expressed mystification as to why my father who normally heads for bed by 8 or 9 PM wanted to stay up and watch every minute of the coverage on election night, and was only satisfied to go to bed after Obama had come out to make his acceptance speech. I was astounded to discover that she had no memory at all of my father's interest in and involvement with civil rights issues. Indeed one of my most profound memories is of the Sunday after M. L. King was assassinated -- marching with thousands through our city streets holding my father's hand, singing "We shall overcome" as tears flowed down his face. Although I started out to write a poem about my mother's fading memories, this is what emerged instead:


election night 2008

he sat in his wheelchair all night
transfixed by the flickering screen light
in the magic of the moment
with millions of others,
his heart beating for the tall man
whose smiling wife
and pretty daughters
stood with him.

he had dreamed of this day.
his heroes had fallen
for this day,
when young
he’d marched
for this day.

his body fading
but not his memories,
not the feeling of pride
for a country
making right.


©sgreerpitt
January 18, 2009