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| Trunk of an old Yew Tree oil on canvas Van Gogh 1888 |
“Tell me about your family," I said. And so she did. I listened intently as my mother went through each branch of the tree. Years later, after the funeral, Maria had asked me questions about the family - who was related to whom - and I struggled. I couldn't remember. A big chunk of our history had been buried with my mother. You should never let your past disappear that way.” ― Mitch Albom, For One More Day
Last week I took myself to task to create a Facebook Group for me and my cousins...actually, a product of a conversation between my two eldest cousins on my father's side after one of them began asking about the names of the kids one generation down. It's funny how when the branches move further and further away from the roots, our knowing, our relationships...our lives seem somewhat disassociated from each other. My children do not have a relationship with my cousins' children. They would not know they are connected by blood if they bumped into each other on the street.
In a recent trip to Baguio it just felt so wonderful to connect with my cousins. I can not count the many colorful stories we share growing up, spending those summers and Christmases together.
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| The Tree Hugger by Angela Ferreira |
Since i am not that much of a techie, it took me awhile to figure out some kinks (privacy settings for a myriad of privacy issues) that needed to be ironed out. Many in the branches are not Facebook "friends," let alone actual friends. It is quite toxic trying to get things running smoothly and making sure that no one gets offended. But the pleasure of evoking beautiful memories is worth it.
We love looking at the uploaded old photos that remind us of the halcyon days of youth...blissful, nostalgic. And sad, too because of the many different roads each of us has taken, and the handful of folk no longer with us. Much as it can retrieve good stuff from the past, it can also dredge up ugly scenes etched in memory, hopefully blurred by time.
“I was thinking how complicated life is and how there are no simple roads or paths. We are a fabric of mistakes and hurts; a family tree of fumbled attempts, successes and failures.”
― Belinda Jeffrey, One long Thread
"Don't break my heart," my good old grandfather used to tell each one of us. I wonder how many times it has been broken into many little pieces. I hope all those have faded into a blur as well.
Whatever has been sewn into the fabric of our lives --- we belong to each other and go back to the same roots at least, of one of our two parents. In my heart a hug goes out to that big old trunk that is our family tree.
