we thought she's in a bardo yesterday. a waiting room. a room of lost memory. the thing is she remembers only some perhaps arbitrary things from the past. her memory is disconnected from her will, and it's very hard to form new memory. it seems like she's looking around inside at memories she can no longer summon. we can't help, other than listening and witnessing with her. speculating on what we love and what we lost, and the way what we've lost connects us. maybe this life is a bardo of memory and loss.