The Last Golden Thread

My grandmother used to say that every time you forget someone's name, a thread connecting

you to them disappears from the universe. I laughed at her superstitions. Until the day I

couldn't remember my own mother's face. It started small. I forgot my childhood

best friend existed. Then my first love became a stranger in old photographs. People kept vanishing

from my memory like smoke, and nobody else seemed to notice they were gone.

I found my grandmother's journal hidden in her attic. She wrote about a family curse.

Every generation, one person becomes the keeper. We don't just forget people.

We erase them from our timeline entirely. When we forget, they never existed at all.