Today, I am thankful for those surprising recoveries of what we once thought were lost forever.
Frankly, I’m amazed by how the human mind works. We have an uncanny capacity to retain memories for past occurrences, some significant and some irrelevant, in our relatively small brains, but then we somehow forget these recollections in the busyness of our hectic lives. That is, until a passing moment or an unexpected circumstance miraculously rekindles that memory in a flick of a millisecond.
Case in point: A few months ago, I came across a photo buried in the back of my office desk about an event in my distant life. I had not recalled this event in nearly 3 decades. While I was busy graduating from medical school, meeting my wife, and raising a family, the event was lost. Yet, as I perused the photo, the memories of that supposedly ordinary day, including the people, circumstances, and even the meals, vividly poured in my head. I felt gratitude (and relief) that my long-term memory remained intact.
The event got me reflecting about how humans can so temporarily forget influential individuals, life-changing experiences, and other significant aspects of their lives. So, today, I’m grateful that those memories are not lost forever, and indeed they might be recovered one day again.
Take for instance the story of King Richard III. As the last in the royal line from the House of York, King Richard’s tenure as England’s ruler was relatively brief (1452-1455). Thirty four months into his reign, he valiantly died in the last in the line of battles known as the War of the Roses. As Henry Tudor ascended to become the next monarch, Henry VII, the body of Richard III was taken to the town of Leicester and quietly buried without ceremonial recognition. His tomb was supposedly unearthed about a century later, and his remains were reportedly thrown into the River Soar. Richard III was essentially lost forever, at least physically, until Shakespeare revived his memory in a play bearing his name.
However, many questioned whether his physical remains were truly lost. Led by the University of Leicester, Philippa Langley and a group of archeologists led out to find his missing tomb. Their research led them to car park, where they uncovered skeletal remains, ironically under the letter R (presumably for ‘Reserved’, not Richard). Radiocarbon dating indicated that the bones were from the 15th Century, and mitochondrial DNA analysis confirmed the bones matched those of his eldest sister, Anne of York. Richard III was properly buried (this time with some pomp and circumstance) in Leicester Cathedral on this day (March 26) in 2015. So, the story ends well for Richard III.
As for my photo from my buried desk, that memory is now securely displayed in a suitable frame in my office.
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