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‘I Remember’ is a collective biography of grief and loss in the 21st century. It is a collaboration, a narrative landscape, an evolving archive, a scrolling poem.

What are you losing?
How are you grieving?
What do you remember?
Who have you lost?

This site is collecting memories and imaginaries for us all.

Please add yours.

I would be immensely grateful for contributions on death and grief in the time of Covid-19, especially by patients, their loved ones, medical professionals and key workers.

If you would like to take part in our one to one workshops please email zoe@iremember.co

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Keywords

Keywords

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Grief - A Work in Progress

The I Remember site is part of Grief – A Work in Progress, a series of audience participatory interventions that explore, record and archive the anatomy of loss in the 21st century.

Visit Grief – A Work in Progress

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Keywords

I remember

being told...

Zoe P.

I remember

being told by a junior doctor that you needed palliative sedation and that you would never wake up again. 1996 and techno music. When you said you wanted me to meet someone and be happy.

Zoe P.

you were...

Zoe P.

I remember

you were in agony and I was trying to learn how to administer a morphine injection on youtube. It was 4am and the community palliative care nurse never showed up.

Zoe P.

how you...

Anna D.

I remember

how you would write cards as if they were from the cats, even when I was an adult. How much your eternal optimism would piss me off and how much I now miss it.

Anna D.

how you...

Anna D.

I remember

how you would write cards as if they were from the cats, even when I was an adult. How much your eternal optimism would piss me off and how much I now miss it.

Anna D.

cocktails in...

Alex R.

I remember

cocktails in the Shard to forget about the latest relapse. Crying on the train, tube and bus, anywhere but home because I didn't want our babies to see me cry.

Alex R.

what it...

Alex R.

I remember

what it felt like to live instead of just existing. The safety and sanctuary of his unconditional love. How complete I felt whenever we were together.

Alex R.

his final...

Alex R.

I remember

his final breath. Trying to clean lung fluid off my wedding ring. Deciding to only live in the present, here and now - the future too scary and uncertain.

Alex R.

the pillar...

Alex R.

I remember

the pillar I hit after the diagnosis and the pain in my hand. How happy he was to see me when I got to the hospital every morning.

Alex R.