remembering

 My dad would have been 97 today but he didn't make it past 66. Well his body didn't anyway, he is with me everyday. He does live on. It saddens me to think his memory will fade away a bit when I am gone. None of my children every got to meet him or know him. My sisters children did so that privilege belongs to them. They were fairly young so I wonder how much they remember. Still I realize that is just the natural order of life. 

 We are lucky today to have photographs and recordings of our loved ones. The photographs have been around for quite some time, that began in America around 1840 or so, not quite two hundred years. I have a photograph of my second great grandfather and his brother. I'm not certain the year it was taken but is most likely the oldest I have. Whenever I think of Great Grandfather Abraham I can see that image in my mind. Of course I have no idea what he sounded like or indeed, what he was like. Today our children and all our ancestors could not only see us but hear us, see us walking and talking. They might access our social media accounts and gain a sense of who we were. I suppose that will depend upon whether we leave them our passwords or not. Will you include them in your will? Have you even considered that? I admit I haven't given that much thought at all. I have known a few that passed away and their profile still appears. I still get reminders when it is their birthday. What we call our social presence. 

 As for my own father he wasn't a writer and so I have nothing of his in that regard. I just have old photographs, some of his things, and a lifetime of memories when it comes to that. He was interviewed by the newspaper at one time, an opinion piece covering the passing of a generation, and if you read it you can get a sense of him. I'd say he was typical of the time in his views. As for myself, well there are volumes you could read, what you make out of any of it I won't speculate on. My intent has always been to leave a record of my thoughts. I do hope that among those thoughts, and thousands of words, some find "words of substance" as I expressed that at one time.

 I am aware that he died at 66 and I'm now 68. That gives one pause to contemplate things a bit. None of us know the hour of our death and so we should be prepared. That begs the question, how? I think it is accomplished by simple acceptance. To put it plainly, it is what it is. It's also something I see a lot of folks struggling with these days. The emphasis today seems to be focused on ideals at the expense of reality. Reality being used as the cause rather than the result. Facts being challenged whenever those facts run contradictory to our wants. But I'm wandering off a bit. I was really just thinking about getting every thing done that I am supposed to. My father accomplished it all in sixty six years. It was his time, his job done. My mother on the other hand lived to be 92. It was then her job was done. 

 Now all of this may sound sad, depressing or even morbid to some and I get that. It isn't the way I feel however, not at all. I find myself not so concerned with dying or death, as the preservation of memories. I'm thinking that may be a portion of my purpose. And I am not solely concerned with my own memories, it is the memories of friends and family that concerns me. Not my memories of them, but the memory of them. That is the distinction I am trying to make, an essence I wish I could capture. To know the person, not just remember them.

 I have found it difficult to write my impressions of people and what I think they thought, felt or believed. The difficulty comes when others that knew them disagree. I wrote an impression of my grandmother and that upset my mother a great deal. She didn't agree with my conclusions and she reminded me that she was the authority, after all, it was her mother! And I get that, we are all the authority when it comes to our own thoughts and memories. I had to concede that she had a far greater insight than I. The other problem when doing that is the dismissal of bias. Histories biographies are riddled with bias. Just how great was Alexander? I haven't written my impression of my father. I call it an impression because that is what interests me and what I want to share. I believe he was a man of time of his times, perhaps a bit progressive in some ways, but conservative in others. In the end he was my father, just as he had always been. Can I be objective? Yes, I believe that day will come and I'll write that impression for further generations to read. That will only happen if someone remembers. I remember. Happy Birthday Dad.