or the reason I haven't stopped loving you yet.
Because I've never wanted to. Because
dementia runs in the family,
and I will forget everything, even
the sound of my own voice. My children
and their children, warm or disinterested
strangers who speak too loudly and
point to photographs of people
I may have lived with or seen
in a movie once. They'll call me mother,
or Stephanie, say other names
I won't recognise, and none of it
will mean a thing. But if I love you,
if for sixty years I love you,
then I will remember that.