The people we forget

And those that will forget us

We forget people. Quickly.

Friends in college. They seemed to matter so much at the time, but we haven’t thought of them in years. Co-workers. They move on or get fired. We forget about them the next week. We say we are going to keep in touch, but we don’t. People we know die, and eventually we kind of forget about them too. Even if we care, or cared. We remember them or some faint memory every once in a while, but they aren’t at all near the fronts of our minds or the tips of our tongues. They are, just, gone. It’s almost shocking to us how quickly we move on. We almost don’t want to admit it. But we can, and it’s okay.

With our ancestors it’s even more pronounced - this forgetfulness. When was the last time you visited your grandfather’s grave? When did you put flowers or stones on it? How about great-grandfather’s? Now how about great-great-great grandfather’s? Have you ever visited his grave even once? Do you even know where he is buried?

No, you probably don’t. It’s okay. Neither do I.

There is a limit to what I might call “active care”, and it probably stops with our grandparents. Beyond them, it’s just too far. Even our grandparents are stretching it. Really, if we are being totally honest with ourselves, there is quite a difference between our parents and our grandparents.