July 7, 2025
A young woman came to visit me today. She had a kind smile and eyes that seemed familiar to me. She hugged me and called me "dad." I know I have a daughter. The concept of "daughter" exists in my mind. But her face... I could not connect the face to the memory. I sat on the couch while she talked about her work, about her husband. I just nodded. At one point, she asked me if I remembered our vacation at the beach when she was little. I did not remember. I saw the pain in her eyes when I said I did not.
Later, the woman who takes care of me, the one with graying hair and a gentle touch, entered the room. The younger woman called her "mom." So, she must be my wife. Her name... I know it starts with H. Helena. Yes, Helena.
People are becoming abstractions. The daughter. The wife. The doctor. The connections that form my life are unraveling. My diary is becoming harder to write. The words do not come as easily. The sentences seem disconnected. I look at the previous entries and barely recognize them as mine.
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