Every night before my mom falls asleep, I sit in a rocking chair by her bed, and we talk. She likes to hear the sound of my voice as she drifts off to sleep, and I like to try and keep her awake with questions. We talk honestly and quietly until the sleeping pills kick in and she finds a few hours of relief. One night, I asked the one question I had been too afraid to ask since she was diagnosed with dementia. "Mom, what are you most afraid of forgetting?" "Who I am," she says. The next day, I started this book.