The Lost

Posted: 05/11/2010 in Uncategorized

I have started reading a book called The Lost, by Daniel Mendelsohn. Interesting book so far, but it has had a hidden gem for me. It is odd, how things in life seem so coincidental sometimes.
As I began reading, it caused me to look at my own heritage, and what little I know about it. I realized I have not one picture of any grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins. This may strike some as odd… I just never really thought about it. Most the pictures I have of my parents and brothers, are saved on my hard drive, not hanging on my walls or in the pages of a photo album. In part I suppose, from the many moves I have had in my life, with every move one seems to always lose something. Also, as a younger kid I remember we were moving, when somethings were stolen from us, including a chest of pictures my parents had.

Grandmother on right, Great grandmother on left

Anyways, last week my mom was spending time at my house, which is a treat as she lives across the country from me. It was then, while sitting at the kitchen table with mom, that I remembered a picture she gave me of her mother and grandmother. I spent an hour digging around through my shed, my bedroom, everywhere I could think of where that picture could be. Finally I located it, right in a box with my wifes old high school stuff. How it got in there, I have no clue.
As I got it out, I found 2 other photos, with my mothers sisters. It was great finding these, then asking my mother about them. I watched my mothers face carefully, as she told of what little she was able to find out about her mother, since her mother died not long after this photo was taken, at a very young age. It was strange, I had never really asked point-blank questions about my grandmother, and I didn’t realize how strong my mothers feelings were about her. Made me think about love, life, and how relationships are important, how when we are gone, we will still live on in the hearts of others.
I think having a physical picture that I can hold, peaks my interest in the people in them. It’s as if, without a picture, it is “out of sight-out of mind.” Having dug that picture out, I had something that was interesting to me, and a story from my mother that will probably never be complete, but with time, will be a valuable piece of where I came from.

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