My father used to say, I can't wait to get old, for my mind to soften, and my memories to rot away. The hardest thing to do is forget, forget the scars that life gives you, forget the scars you gave others. The challenge, then, is hiding a few memories worth keeping from your dying mind. He told me to keep a journal and only write down the good things. Then, when the bad things fade away, you can read about the happy life you had. But minds don't forget so easy, and the horror that we witness and endure takes root. Only madness and dementia can remove it.