Long Gone

I’m home, presently in bed with my electric blanket on, having done everything on the list that I said I would do, already, except for number 8 but I’ve been aqua-jogging so that’s like walking (no I’m not geriatric but RJ and I are trying to bring it back for the younger generations).

In prep for our family trip to the Motherland aka the Czech Republic, where my Dad’s family is from, we have been going through all the old stuff of my grandads, from the two boxes that are full of maps, letters, photos, random receipts. All that make up the remains of a life. Today I came across some photos of my grandmother, who died when Dad was 22. It was so weird looking at that face, familiar, but unknown, there’s always been the same photo of her in the house. Weirdly, my first thought was “would she have liked me?”. I’ve always wanted a grandma around, just to do grandma-ish things with – I see it as one cookie-baking, knitting, vintage clothing fiesta.

Isn’t it strange to think of all the people who made up our lives before us, the people whose blood is in our veins, but yet we will never know? It’s sad but it’s also such a strange part of the human condition, unlike most other animals, our families are not just there to teach us the ropes and give us our DNA, they are the backbones of our lives. They will be imperative in shaping who we become, what we value, what contributions we make and how we see ourselves.

 

 

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