A Lesson in Family History
A lesson in family history is as near as your family's cemetery.
Teach your children and grandchildren about those who have come
before them.
Several years ago I attended my grandfather's funeral. Living
into his late eighties, my grandfather had lived a long,
eventful life, first with my father's mother who died after more
than 40 years of marriage, and then with his second wife, whom
he shared his life with for more than 20 years until he died.
When my grandfather died, his wife, who is now in a nursing
home, forever said goodbye to her third husband and my
grandfather was buried next to his first wife, the mother of his
four children, in the small farming community where their
children had been born and raised.
When we arrived at the burial site, I didn't at first realize
all of the family history recorded before my very eyes. My aunt,
my father's sister, had lived all of her almost 60 years in this
small community, and she knew the history of each relative
buried there, dating back to the early 1800's. As we walked in
between the grave stones, my aunt told me story after story of
the people who were laid to rest in this quiet peaceful
place--grandparents, great-grandparents, great aunts and uncles.
She told me the story of how my grandmother's mother had died
when my grandmother was a small girl, and how she and her
brother had been sent to live with relatives until their father
remarried and they were brought back to live with his new
family. My aunt showed me where my great grandparents were
buried, as well as my great uncle. My grandmother was buried on
the other side of the cemetery, however, with my grandfather's
family--his family had also been buried there for generations. I
got goosebumps as I looked in awe at all the history before me.
My grandfather was buried right next to my grandmother, where
she had been patiently waiting for him for more than 20 years.
After the burial services we went
and visited at the home of my grandmother's half sister, a great
aunt I had never met. My father's family is a quiet bunch who
normally keep to themselves and their own lives, and I'd never
been with so many members of his family at once. I made a point
to take lots of pictures and later made copies of them to send
to his brothers and sister. I knew in my heart that if I didn't
that moment would be lost and gone forever. They would probably
never be together in one place again.
I left with a small sense of sadness and a great awareness of
my mortality and my duty to preserve my family's memories. I
wished my daughter had been there with me to see what I had
seen. She still does not have a sense of connection to the
family members who have come before her.
My mother's family lives closer to us, and this Memorial Day
I have made the commitment to journey to the small community
where my mother grew up to visit the graves of her family
members. Her sister, my aunt, still lives there and still
remembers the history represented by the solemn grave markers. I
will take my daughter with me this time, and I will talk to her
of those who have come before her. I want her to grow up with a
sense of purpose and a sense of connection to the past so she
can more consciously participate in the future to come,
affecting the lives of those will come after we are gone--those
who might visit our graves and wonder what great things we
accomplished during our lifetimes.
What will people say about you when you're gone? I hope
people will say about me, "She was a loving wife and
mother. A source of strength to all who knew her. May God bless
her and give her peace."
About the Author
Originally published at Suite 101. Rachel Paxton is a
freelance writer and mom. For complete resources for the
Christian home, visit her web site at http://www.Christian-Parent.com.
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