You have to begin losing your memories if only in bits and pieces to realize that memories are what make our lives. Our memories are our coherence, our reason, our feelings and even our actions. Without it we are nothing.
The ability to remember the past, to possess a personal history and to convey our own stories is a precious one. It is given only to some to recall in vivid details events and happenings that have flowed through one’s life. Some events make a deep impression on one’s psyche that enables one to recall such events or moments despite the passage of time. How much of life consists in not forgetting and this not in terms of recalling experiences happy and sad. It also means the ability to retain information that we need. It includes operating with enough efficiency so that one is not a liability to others.
It would be interesting to imagine being stuck with amnesia at this moment. The change would be nothing short of dramatic. You will have no notion of who you are, where you live and who your loved ones are. You will remember nothing of what you have achieved. All the hopes and dreams you had entertained for the future have melted away and disappeared. With advancing age your faculties begin dwindling and your physical attributes diminish.
Personal as well as collective history has instances of failures and disappointments and dredging them can only be painful. Is there any use in recalling them unless it reminds us and teaches us the futility of anger and animosity? There are always memories that we must forget and forgive and move away from. And there are the ones we must remember and cherish. They belong to the treasure chest of our memory for they embody all satisfactions and fulfillment of our hopes.
Personally speaking, I have strong memories of various stages in my life which I have been able to put through in my Autobiography running to more than 200 pages written and published when I was past eighty. Keeping my memories in all its nuances is a gift of God.