"I thought about the days i had handed over to a bottle..the nights i can't remember..the mornings i slept thru..all the time spent running from myself.”
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day
I called her upon receiving the tragic news. It turns out I didn't even need to call at all: Fosua was fine and dandy. How could a teenage girl who had just lost her brother, her father and her home in one night, be so sober and so calm? Yes, both men died from different causes; however, the conundrum lied in the timings of their deaths - both at the eleventh hour. Fosua's father was a heavy drinker who had lost his driver's licence due to the numerous, drunk-driving violations he had accumulated over the past 7 years. No, he was not abusive of any sorts: he was just plain annoying. Fosua and her now-deceased brother, Mikki, along with their mother, took turns to clean the vomit of their father's inebriating, on a weekly basis. Mikki had to become the supporting driver of the family at the age of 17. And like every 17-year old, his father's car became his medium for mischief. This attitude of abusing his privileges to his father's car turned Mikki's relationship with his parents very sour. On the night of their deaths, Mikki and his once again intoxicated father engaged in a verbal and physical fight which triggered a heart attack in the latter. Fosua and her mother rushed the dying man to the hospital after Mikki had driven away in heated anger. At 11 o'clock on the dot, in the hospital, Fosua watched her mother cry inconsolably as the paramedics broke the news of her father's time of death. She watched again, as her mother fainted from shock when she received a phone call from the police that their house had been completely burnt to the ground - with Mikki asleep in it. Apparently, his notorious speeding caused the heated tyres of his father's car to catch fire from some pieces of foam lying aimlessly in the garage. I asked Fosua why she seemed so calm; her response was, "Who are you?". Fosua had immediately contracted dissociative amnesia owing to the trauma of the recent events. And suddenly, I knew that my words of comfort and condolences were fallen on deaf ears. I was speaking to someone who had forgotten to remember who she was.
So, what's the moral of the story?
As a human, you're naturally born with dissociative amnesia in your soul. You are born into the world to forget. To forget who you are, where you came from, why you are where you are, what you can, must and shouldn't do and where you are going. Unfortunately, the world does nothing to help alleviate this condition that is stealthily stealing your life; but rather, it aggravates your dire situation. The world proposes all manner of 'advancement' and 'progress' as the solutions to your soulic-al plight. The world says, "You'll find healing in the future we give you." But the truth is that, the only way to heal dissociative amnesia is to trigger the lost memories of the patient by repeatedly exposing him or her to the truth about their past. There is no alternative to this. As a result, it is imperative for all humanity to seek absolute Truth. For it is in it that we remember the true source of our pains and problems: it is in remembering the absolute, that we find healing for the amnesia of the soul.