The memory already has a replacement: Google. If I had to resort to that to remember the name of my mother, or of beloved women and friends, I will know that everything is already lost.
Not only of moments, people, sensations and events that were joyful and uplifting, but also that which is impregnated with pain, sadness or failure. Mine was prodigious. It not only encompassed names, titles, dates, sensations, but it was also emotional, or capricious, or selective.