My earliest memory
This is going to be a bit creepy, but my earliest memory by far is from around the age of two. Which isn’t really all that creepy in itself, but the memory sort of is. To normal, sane people anyway. I’m probably neither.
In my earliest memory, I’m visiting my grandfather from my mom’s side at the hospital. I’ve later on heard that he was a man who avoided doctors and hospitals with passion, claiming that if he’d ever end up in one, he’d die in one. Which he did. I remember visiting him at the hospital as a little girl and sitting on the side of his hospital bed, looking at him and thinking about how much I wished I would’ve had the chance to get to know him better. I vividly remember just knowing he was going to die and I wouldn’t get to see him again. Since his passing, I’ve only seen a couple of pictures of him and don’t really have much of an idea of what he was like.
Sometimes I’m envious of my sisters who are over 18 years older than I am and as such, had the opportunity to get to know at least a few of my grandparents (my mom’s dad, my dad’s adoptive parents and my dad’s real mom) and enjoy their company. Most envious I am of the fact that they both got to have my father in their lives for so much longer than I did and they had the pleasure to know him when he was about the age I am now and younger, where as I entered his life when he was already 44 and probably quite different than he had been in his 20’s.
Anyway, I strayed from the topic a bit. That was my earliest, clear memory. Most of my memories start from around the age of four. I would include a picture of my grandfather, but the only ones I’ve seen are at my mom’s house.