In everyone’s lives there are always a set of memories – the sweet ones, the bitter ones, the uncomfortable ones and the list goes on. These wonderful moments are always kept either in you or in an album. Treasure them because they are worth it. I know as I speak from experience.

I opened my eyes slowly.

The world was full of light at first, everything was so bright. Slowly but surely, the world came into focus. The room was…bright. The walls were white and the light from the ceiling lamp seemed to be illuminated. A faint scent of antiseptic wafted in the air. It was the hospital. However, why was I there? Then it struck me. Who am I? Why am I here? What happened to me? Numerous questions regarding myself flashed through my mind but most important one of all was… What is my name? I cringed. The thoughts were making my mind hurt. In a flash it dawned upon me, I could not remember anything.

The door to the ward swung gently opened. A plump lady entered, holding a jar of water in her hands. Her initial expression of worry changed into a mixture of relief and happiness once she saw me. However, her face changed after knowing that I had lost all of my memories.

The doctors came and conducted numerous examinations on me. It was concluded that I had lost my memories and it was still a question mark as to whether it was permanent or temporary. The people who sat around me all had different expressions- some were devastated, some were trying to just grin and bear it and some were already crying inconsolably.

The next day those same people came to visit me. They told me who they were. My mother, my father, my siblings, my grandparents and my best friends all reintroduced themselves to me. I could only give a faint smile and a nod to acknowledge them and no more than that. Seeing that I still had no recognition of any of them, they took out a box.

Out of the box came many photo albums.

I was shown a picture that depicted a scene of a smiling girl in a primary school uniform holding up a cheque saying two hundred fifty dollars only. The plump lady that I saw the moment I opened my eyes who was also my mother sat on the bed beside me.

“Look. This was you when you were eight. You were awarded the Edusave Merit Bursary as you did well in school. You demanded that I took a picture of you with the cheque. You were smiling so widely as if you were on cloud nine. It was your first time but was definitely not your last,” she told me, her eyes filled with pride as she did so. A small knot formed in the depths of my heart. It was such an uncomfortable feeling.

Then, another picture was placed before me. This time, the small girl had grown a little, she had on a pair of thick glasses and was holding onto a Primary School Leaving Examinations (PSLE) certificate. This time a middle-aged man approached. He was my father. “This was taken when you received your results. You were so depressed a few days before, thinking that you will fail,” he smiled “but the results turned out fine and you wanted to take down this picture to remind yourself to always on the bright side. The uncomfortable feeling grew. However, I bit my lower lip as I tried to recollect my memories to no avail.

Another picture was shown. This time the girl was smiling through her tears. She had on a bright orange t-shirt with trainer written on it. My friend came up to me. She grabbed my hands and said “This was when you were 15. You attended a trainer’s camp. During the camp, you shared weal and woe with all the instructors and fellow campers. When it was time to part, we all cried. The instructors gave a speech that made everyone cried, it was so memorable.” The uncomfortable feeling grew even stronger now but I still had no recollection.

Everyone showed me a bunch of pictures and each time the uncomfortable feeling would grow stronger. It showed the growth of the small girl. There were black and white pictures of a baby, a faded one of a toddler, a one when the girl was in a graduation gown and many more. There were pictures of the girl crying, smiling, laughing, jumping, swimming and many more. However, it was the last picture that grabbed attention.

This one showed the girl in her mid-twenties smiling blissfully in the arms of a dashing man. I asked my mother “Who is he?” Everyone fell into pin drop silence. Finally, my mother said timidly, “He was your fiance. He was supposed to marry you a month ago. However, on your wedding day, both of you were met in a car accident. He used his body to protect you. You fell into a coma but he wasn’t as lucky. He…” and she trailed off.

My hands that were holding onto the photo album started to tremble. The uncomfortable feeling grew so much that it overwhelmed me, causing my entire body to tremble. A splitting headache exploded in my mind. Flashes of images, sounds and smell zoomed through my mind. Tears streaked down my cheeks as I tried to regain my composure to no avail. The images never stopped until I reached a point when there was only darkness.

Once again I opened my eyes to the lights in the room. The only difference was that this time, the room was packed with people who had on a worried expression. I smiled at them as I slowly got up. This time I remembered. Although I had gotten back my sweet memories, I had also gotten back the bitter-sweet memories that would haunt me for the rest of my life. Despite the bad memories, I would treasure them all the same as they are all part of me.