White Feathered Bird: A Short Story
April 06, 2017
It’s been a week or two since I’ve been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. After losing and misplacing my things multiple times, it worries me to the point where I fear that I’ll forget the day of your death, Yasmin. I don’t want to lose the memory of your crooked smile and the way the specks within your forest eyes flicker. Or when you would hum along while listening to our favorite tunes during the darkest hour of hot summer nights. I don’t want to forget how you would frequently run your nimble fingers down your silk dress, caressing the crease you made when you sat down carelessly, muttering your complaints of not looking perfect. The way your hues glistened when Sam was accepted into a prestigious college. Oh, how you couldn’t let the boy go. In all honesty, If I could stop him from growing up, I would.
What if one day when I wake up to the sunlight alone, I’ll forget who used to sleep by my side. And what if one day, I’ll look at my son and question who he is? The thought alone makes my heart quiver in sadness, like how it was on the day we unplugged the ventilator and had to bury you into mother nature’s earth. That’s why Sam and I plan to enter me into a group who will study my disease, and possibly, cure it. I don’t have high hopes, considering that Alzheimer’s is categorized as incurable. But maybe, just maybe, you will grant me a wish as my angel, so that I can leave this place with the memories of Sam, you, and me together. That’s all I want, really.
I have to get going now. Sam is calling me to eat dinner. Isn’t he such a good boy? Taking care of his father when he has a life of his own.
October 11, 2018
It’s been a long year, Yemin. They haven’t found a cure for Alzheimer’s yet, which is to be expected. Sam has been very frustrated with me lately. Maybe it’s about time I should let him go and put myself into one of those nursing homes. Wouldn’t that be nice?
They haven’t found a cure yet, and I don’t think they will. Sam seems to be quieter now. I think he wants to go back to his old life and I think he should too. What do you think?
After rereading the beginning of this entry, I’ve noticed that I continuously repeat myself when writing and talking. It makes me chuckle knowing that my brain works much differently now. But in all seriousness, I really want Sam to live his best life instead of worrying about me. I think it’s time for me to drop from the program and place myself into one of those homes so Sam doesn’t have to care for me anymore.
Anyways, I checked the note I wrote in April. I said I didn’t want to forget you and I haven’t, aren’t you proud? I still remember how you cried when Sam went to University. However, I can’t say I remember every detail like I used to.
Sometimes in the middle of the nights, I wake up to an empty bedside and wonder where you are. I wait until the morning comes and then I ask our son about your whereabouts. He reminds me that you’re an angel up in heaven now.
Are you watching over us?
February 09, 2019
Today a boy came into the nursing home to see me. He said his name was Sam? He cried when I asked how we’re related and he mumbled his apologies over and over. I believe he was sorry for leaving me in a place like this, but I was quick to tell him that I placed myself here. I don’t remember why I did so, but he was sure that it was because of him. He questioned if I remembered someone named Yem? Yas? Apparently, she was my wife. I’m not sure what he means. I’m not married. Maybe he needs to put himself in a nursing home too…
The nurse just came into my room with a slice of sponge cake and a bowl of soup. The soup was different from the other bland soups we usually have on Saturdays. It was seasoned with many spices, which made the liquid in my bowl a deep murky orange. I asked her why the meal was what it was. She looked at me with a pitiful gaze, smiled politely, and said that it was my 77th birthday. As I finally processed what had been spoken, I realized how damaged my memory has gotten. Tears began to swell in my eyes, and maybe I let out a sob or two.
Simultaneously, I dried my face and slowly ate the soup. I saw from my window, a white feathered bird flying towards the sun’s light.
It reminds me of an angel and it leaves me in warmth.
