What happens to our memories when we are done with them?

I am reminded of grandmother's hands,
the pale wrinkled backs she gentled with lotion,
the way her hand held mine, when we caught
the bus to shop, how her hands steadied
my back as if she were an angel protecting
all sides of me, how her hands brushed
the hair from my eyes, patted me on the back
nudged me forward. What will happen when her hands
are no longer a memory? Where will they go?