As I prepare dinner tonight, Audrey brings you up- she tells me “Sometimes I don’t remember my appa… and sometimes I do.” “Sometimes I don’t remember him and then I see his clothes and I say, “Ooooohhh, I remember my appa.”
I sink to the floor and sit as she leaves the room. What I notice is that she no longer calls you “Daddy” or “Appa” but “my appa.” “My dad.”
Tonight we sat and watched a bunch of videos with your voice on it because she seemed to be trying to tell me something. I accept at this point that there is not much I can do about childhood’s amnesia, but I will help her here and there if I can. We watch the videos on the little hand-held screen of the device. There she is kissing your face- the only part of you sticking out of the covers early in the morning in our bed. There she is saying “appa” for the first time…it was while you were away in Australia and I wanted to record it for you.
She snuggles close to me while we watch. I feel her sadness and mine.
Afterwards, I go to get her toothbrush and when I come back to our room, I see her hugging your cello. Then counting the stickers on it.
I’m so sorry and so sad Dan. Audrey is forgetting you.