Purged

Nine months after the accident, I woke up in bed unaware of the time that had passed. It was no longer autumn and even after so short a time the faces that I did recognize seemed changed. There were things not being said and I could sense that I was missing something. The questions I asked were avoided and it wasn't until I cornered one of them that they told me the truth.
The thing that disturbs me the most is that I was never bedridden, but had been released from the hospital a couple of weeks after it had happened and have been living at home since. I carried on normally in every respect, except one. I ate, talked, walked and went to work. I paid bills, drove my car and went out. Everything was normal except for the fact that I had no memory of Richard. I never asked about him or wondered where he was. I had completely wiped him from my mind and went about my business, as usual. They told me that when his name came up, in front of me and by accident, my eyes would glaze over and I would get up and leave the room. They would find me sitting on a chair, on the patio, looking at the sky but with no indication that I knew what had transpired.
But nine months after the accident I woke up and knew something was missing. When I finally wondered out loud where Richard was they told me he was dead. I felt a loss that wasn't completely a surprise to me. The longing and the pain was too familiar to me, even though I couldn't remember the specifics. I asked them again and again how it had happened and they avoided my eyes. They told me that I had cried when they came to see me in the hospital and that I knew then what I didn't know now. The doctors had warned them that my memory would never be the same. I can't remember the accident, although I did briefly. And then nothing. I stopped remembering and went back to my normal routine.
But right now, I remember everything. It was my fault. I also know that I will probably forget again, and that some time, in the future, I'll wake up one morning and wonder where Richard is, having forgotten that he's dead, and that for the rest of my life the shock and the pain will be re-born in me as fresh as it was the first time.