A few days ago, I was waiting for a friend at a convenience store in my apartment. An elderly man walked in and suddenly said,

“Where is building 109?”

At first, I had to repeat myself a few times due to his inaccurate pronunciation. I soon realized that he was referring to building 109 in the apartment, so I turned on the map app and showed him the location. But after a while, he remained silent and asked again, “Where is building 109?” I wondered if I should be more specific, but then he added one more word.

“Building 109 is my house, but I can’t remember where it is.”

My heart was pounding and falling, and my friend hadn’t arrived yet, so I offered to take him there myself. Unlike my long, padded coat, the old man’s coat was a mountaineering jacket that didn’t look very thick.

“I was lost for an hour.”

The temperature was minus 5 degrees Celsius. Even I, bundled up in thick long puffer, was freezing and had taken shelter inside the convenience store. The old man was holding a walking stick in one hand, and it looked precarious.

I asked if he had family at home because I wanted to reach out to them.

“I had a wife, but she died last year, and now I live alone.”

Then he went on to say something else, and then added in a bitter tone.

“Building 109 is my house, but I don’t remember, my brain must be really weird.”

As we headed to the old man’s house, we chatted about various things. He told me he was 88 years old, and that he moved into this apartment on January 13, 2017. He laughed quietly when I told him that he must have a really good memory because he remembered the exact date.

When I asked him about his children, he told me that they were living in Bundang, and then he told me that the other day his children came to visit him at lunchtime and ate with him, and they asked him, “Are you okay?” and said, “You seems strange.”

We arrived at building 109. The old man thanked me and shook my hand over and over again, and I offered to watch him go in, just in case he couldn’t remember what room he was in, but he turned me away, saying it was fine. I advised him that next time if he was confused again, he should look for the management office at the entrance of the apartment building and turned to leave.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.

When everyone else in the world forgets me, I am the last one to remember me, not anyone else. I can’t imagine how bleak and frightening it would be for even myself to forget me, how lonely I would feel.