It’s A Family Matter

Recently, I’ve been organizing a family history project of sorts on my mother side of the family. I’ve sent out a number of questions for relatives to respond to and slowly the emailed responses are trickling back in. I’ve also been pushing to get family members to send me their memories of each other. My hope is to compile these memories and answered questions into a “book” that each of these family members would then get a copy of.

At times, when I’m feeling like I’ve been particularly naggy with all my “reminder” emails or I haven’t heard back from anyone in awhile, I ask myself why exactly I decided to tackle this project in the first place. The answer, fortunately, is simpler than the task that prompted the question.

What got me started and what keeps me motivated? I love my family. I want to remember them. I want to know how they spent their days, what they liked, what they remember about each other, what made them happy. In short, I want them to be with me even when the miles or other things separate us.

I know so very little about relatives as close as my grandparents. It’s scary to me how quickly that knowledge evaporates (and how little it seems at times I can even find out about them from their own kids).

I want my children to know where they come from. I want them to see connections in the faces of the past and present. I want them to feel surrounded by people that they know and love.

This book, admittedly, is not the end-all to this goal. But it’s a step. A small step, maybe. But one in the right direction. And for the right reasons.

Note: The family picture above is fairly dated, so I hope none of my family will mind me posting it.