Sometimes I find myself being very forgetful.

Sometimes it’s just “normal” stuff. I’ll forget I made an appointment and didn’t remember to write it down.I’ll forget people’s names I should have known by years ago. I’ll forget birthdays. Usually l II’ll chalk it up to “lack of sleep” or “parent brain.”

But sometimes, I fear it may become something “more.”

You see, Alzheimers/Dementia runs in our family.

Thirteen years ago my grandmother passed away of Alzheimer’s/Dementia.

I learned “non-verbal communication” from conversations I had with my grandmother toward the end.

I learned to interpret the ‘feeling’ of what she said, instead of the actual words she used. She would be talking about an airplane trip and the whole time referring to it as something else (like a “bus.”)

The sentences didn’t actually make sense, but if you followed her train of thought, you could interpret what she was saying.

I never questioned it. I think it is something that prepared me to deal with nonverbal autism.

It’s the same form of communication. You learn to interpret the “feeling” of what is being communicated, not the actual words.

Somehow, the non-verbal cues make sense to me, when they don’t make sense to anyone else.

Through the years, many of my family members have dealt with Alzheimer’s/Dementia.

Sometimes, I see signs of it in my Dad.

Sometimes, I even see signs of it in myself.

I joke with my wife that we better find a retirement center with an Alzheimer’s unit for me (when I am forgetful), but deep down, there is a grain of truth…

That’s partly why I run my page. That’s partly why I blog.

Long ago, I began a blog – since retired – called “Forgemories” (Forgotten Memories of an old man) where I would blog about my childhood, my earliest memories, and things I will want to remember later in life.

I wanted to chronicle my life when I can still remember it, so if ever there comes a time when my memory wanes, it will be like telling myself an incredible story.

…the time when I played a game of basketball against inmates in a Venezuelan prison…

…the time when I saw my first hydrofoil while boating on the Dnipro river in the Ukraine…

…how I knew my wife was “the one”…

…Jonny’s first words…

…Jonah’s first word.

My life.

My Life is something I want to remember.

Even if I forget it.

*Inspired from a lovely post from Isla’s Voice – Our Journey with Autism