"It's not bad yet but will get worse," Womack told The Sun. "How can I not remember songs I wrote?
How could I not remember that night three years earlier when I screamed Grace's name until my voice grew hoarse and my fists bruised from pounding the plexiglass that kept me away from my dying daughter?
"Not only do I not remember Jens' grandmother's chalet having a balcony (surely I would have stood on it, smoked Camels, and looked at the stars — I'm a stargazer), I don't think it had a view of Lake Geneva," she recalled.
His worst moment: blacking out at night, then breakfasting the next morning with his kids when "they said, 'Dad, Dad, that was the best one ever, tell us that [nighttime] story again.' I realized that not only could I not remember the story, I didn't even remember tucking them in".
Why can I not remember a damn thing...I mean a dagnabit thing?!?!
And with memory, how could I not remember the suffering and difficulties that all of our queer lives have navigated?
