I stood there mesmerized. The frail 90-year-old who was lying in her bed vaguely able to communicate with me was the most beautiful bride. I could not move from the photo. She was tiny. Her smile was huge. She and her beloved looked the epitome of love. I wondered if they had remained friends with the others in the photo or if they were even still alive.

Some days I have to tell myself to keep moving as my eyes catch photos in the shadow box next to the door or the framed pictures on the wall. I am struck by the obvious. The people I visit were young and vivacious. They had friends and romances. They traveled the world and enjoyed the FOX and the MUNY. They rode street cars and remember the first television in their living room. They were US!

Why is it that we forget that they, too, shopped for groceries, juggled too many obligations, and disciplined their children? And now it is a child or grandchild who carefully takes home their laundry once a week or brings savory snacks from the shops. It is a child who now tells the parents what to do or the parent relies upon a child’s guidance and care.

It is truly the circle of life. I do not want anyone to forget that I was once young or that I could run marathons. Perhaps that is why I save my medals! I don’t want others to forget that I loved reading when my eyes can no longer see the print or my hands hold a book. I don’t want to reach the point where I no longer care or want to do what once brought me so much pleasure. I want the photos of my family celebrating a birthday or making funny faces on the ski lift. I want others to know I was them.