Remember Me

I really envy people who knew, as kids, what they want to be when they grow up.
I wish I had known, too. All I knew is that I loved reading books, still do, and I probably wouldn’t get paid for that, nor for eating chocolate. 

When you’re a kid, you just live your life, feeling like most things are just going to remain as they are. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize that one day you will grow up and some things will probably change, but you are unable to grasp how different they are really going to be.

I remember hanging out at my grandparents’ house when I was younger, which consists as a big part of my childhood memories. Somehow, I assumed that this house is always going to be around. It was only when my grandmother passed away recently (my grandfather died seven years before her) that I had the crushing realization that this house is going to be sold and out of my reach from that moment on. All that is going to remain is my memories of it, a painful concept with which l’m still struggling to come to terms. How could everything change like that? 

The same goes for my grandparents and everyone else I had lost and will lose later on. I cannot easily accept that all that remains from the people who die is our memories of them. No new memories from now on. All that will remain from me one day is memories, too. I hope somebody misses me when I’m gone. Dealing with the notion of death is hard, but it’s even harder to think about leaving this world without leaving anything behind. It should probably motivate me to do great, memorable things in my life… but some things are easier said than done.