I know the exact search terms I used the night my grandfather died. I remember the glow of the screen, the autocomplete suggestions. What I can't remember is the sound of his voice. I've been trying to recall it for three years and there's just nothing there. I have recordings of him on my phone. I know that. But the actual memory of his voice - the way it sounded coming through a room - that's gone. I have the documentation of him without the feeling of him.

Memory used to be a smell or a texture or the temperature of a specific afternoon. Now it's a timestamp and a file path. I read an old journal entry last week and the emotions in it felt reported, not felt. Like I was reading about someone else's fear. I know I wrote it. I can see my handwriting. But I can't get back into that room, that day, that version of what it felt like. How much of what happened to you do you actually still have? Not the record of it - the actual feel of it?