When moving last year I set aside some old, personal family stuff for a rainy day. Or, as it turned out, for an unexpected time of isolation.
Digging through old photos, news clippings and other artifacts on a recent secluded evening was an enjoyable and enlightening experience. Yet it was a time of disappointment as well.
Questions arose with the sources of those answers no longer available. Several thoughts came to mind that would have made for good conversations with my parents, older brother, grandparents and other relatives and friends who have passed from this life to the next.
Repeated in my mind were sentences beginning with, “I wish I’d asked…”
So this time of isolation would be well suited for such conversations while there is still time.
Now a word of caution: Those doing the storytelling need to not go overboard — in order to be asked again.
When cleaning out my parents’ house after my mother’s death in August 2004, it seemed that every other item I picked up evoked a story.
After several hours and countless tales, our then-6-old daughter Abigail said bluntly: “Dad, we’ve heard enough of your childhood stories.”
Someday, kid, someday…