On February 26th, 2010, my life partner of nineteen years died. Eight months later, on September 20th, my twenty-three-year-old daughter died, too. One day I'll tell their stories, but not today. Today, I'll tell a story about stories.
After they died, I cleaned out their stuff. I threw out or gave away the things that had no particular meaning. I learned the things that define a person's life can easily be stored in a medium-sized box. |
| Clockwise, back row from left: David, Bruce, Eddie, and Jennifer |
I've learned a lot more, too, since then. In the end, I've learned that what matters most is your loved one's pictures and stories. Their boxes are filled with memories of Jennifer and Bruce, photos, and reminders of their stories.
And I've learned that when you're the last one standing, what you miss most is that there's no one left to finish the family stories or laugh at the inside jokes.
Recently I began researching my family history. Once again, the most exciting thing about the research is the pictures and the stories. I'll be sharing those on this blog.
O, Me! O, Life!
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