Others don’t experience the continuous “you” that lives inside. They get snapshots: who you were in school, who you were on the job, who you were during a good or a difficult year.
Those snapshots tend to stick, especially if they were emotionally significant. Meanwhile, you’ve had access to every quiet update, every internal shift, every small correction. So your sense of self is fluid and current, while theirs is stitched together from older, high-resolution moments. I spoke with Kevin and Bob, two buddies who were grammar school classmates. Their update was that Denis, one of our mutual friends, was diagnosed as terminally ill. We shared a bittersweet stroll down memory lane. Grief does not follow a schedule. It arrives in ordinary moments and stays longer than expected. The people closest to it often step back without meaning to. But every once in a while, someone does something small. Denis died and was cremated today, but we've heard no more. This was our grammar school photo. He is top row, fourth from the left, and I'm fourth from the right.
Denis Watson, 76, passed away peacefully at home on April 25, 2026, leaving behind a legacy of love, strength, and quiet generosity.
A devoted husband to Ellen Watson and a proud father to his daughters, Megan and Kerry, Denis was the heart of his family. He was also a beloved brother to 13 siblings and a cherished godfather to two, as well as an amazing uncle to so many nieces and nephews, forming deep and lasting bonds with those lucky enough to know him.
Denis served his country in the United States Army, where he was stationed in Hawaii during the Vietnam war. Following his service, he carried on a family tradition by owning and operating his own graphic arts business for many years. He later continued his work at FedEx/Kinko's, where he remained until his retirement in 2020.
He had a deep love for the simple joys in life - fishing, cooking, and spending time with the people he cared about most. Known for his steady presence, loyalty, and warm sense of humor.
Denis had a way of making others feel at ease and welcome.
There’s also a kind of cognitive efficiency at work. Once someone forms a model of you, they unconsciously reuse it; it saves effort. Updating that model requires attention, openness, and sometimes letting go of a story they’ve told themselves about you for years. Not everyone can do that easily.
But it’s not just “stuck in the past.” We all do the same thing with others all the time. Most folks probably still carry simplified or outdated versions of people we haven’t deeply re-engaged with for decades. It’s a two-way lag.
The deeper tension comes from identity moving at different speeds. Internally, change can feel rapid and profound. Externally, it’s sporadic and unevenly witnessed. That gap can feel like being mis-seen, or even a little erased.
The hopeful part is that this isn’t fixed. People who stay in active, honest contact with others tend to update their understanding over time. It usually takes repeated exposure to the here and now, not just a single reveal. And sometimes it takes us gently challenging the outdated version, through how we show up, what we say yes or no to, what we are willing to correct.
So it’s less that we are trapped in someone else’s outdated memory, and more that relationships need ongoing renegotiation to keep pace with who we are becoming. Some will keep up. Some won’t. And that, too, becomes part of how our present self takes shape… And so it goes.