Can you remember your school's old Lost and Found bins? 

Ours were made of plastic, probably brightly dyed once but now disguised by a paint job of dust, cracked in multiple places. My school had hidden the ugly bins in a corner of the front office, the one least visible to outside visitors. 

That corner was my refuge. There was nothing I loved more than to rummage through those bins after school, looking for my lost things while also enjoying the interesting bits and pieces I ran into along the way. 

Occasionally, I would stumble across an old possession I had completely forgotten about, but this only added to the mystery. Finding these items thrilled me to no extent, as I would try hard to remember where I had been and what I had been doing when I'd lost them. They seemed twice as valuable now that they were "rediscovered", even though I had no recollection of ever losing them in the first place.

My mind kept returning to those Lost and Found bins every day I spent with my grandfather the summer of 2022. Somewhere in the year after he had been diagnosed with Lewy Body dementia, all memories of us had been hidden in the deepest corners of his memory, buried in layers upon layers of dust and debris. He didn't remember who we were, much less why we were in his house, and it was beyond frustrating to witness his growing suspicion and distrust. As my grandfather grew more and more fearful of his own family, I grew more and more hopeless that he could ever be helped. If only he had some way to access his own Lost and Found, I remember thinking. If only he had some way to remember.

My grandfather passed away the August after that summer, and I believe he is now healthy, free, and full of happy memories. I also believe it's not too late for others like him. With patience and prayer, we can make a difference in their lives: one photo, one memory, at a time.