He had been in fragile health for some time. His favorite way to spend an afternoon was to sit and reminisce over his life. As his memory began to slip, sometimes he told the same story over and over, usually beginning with these words, "I may never have told you this..." Distracted by a myriad duties I needed to be finishing, I often just smiled and endured the recitation while I mentally organized my day. After all, I'd heard it many times before.
As he got older and frailer, I began to realize that one day soon, he would leave us, taking his memories and my connection to our shared past with him. I began to get a pen and paper, or a hand held recorder, and ask questions while I took notes. Sometimes it was a lengthy session. Sometimes I just jotted down a sentence or two.
What I discovered was a gold mine. Dad was a veritable storehouse of information, dates, and names. Our afternoons together became a treasure hunt for my family's story. We both had our DNA tested and he gave me valuable clues as I pieced together our pedigree. I learned not only what he did, but why he did it, answering some nagging questions about our family and bringing me a new sense of release and peace.
With his help, I was able to publish a book on the history of the community in which we live. I couldn't have done it without his vast knowledge of people and places. The book is dedicated to him, and my only regret is that he passed on before I could place it in his hands.
Now he is gone, and I cherish those times I had with him. He took great comfort in knowing that what he thought was important for us to remember about him and the family had been preserved. And I learned so much, mostly how vital it is to be present when I am with others. I had always taken his presence for granted, and now that he is gone, I often find myself trying to remember something and wishing he were here to ask. I miss the essence of who he is, but I am comforted by the treasure of the sweet fellowship I was honored to experience.
As a lay researcher, I realize the importance of writing down even the most basic family information. I have spent countless hours trying to dig up just the names and birth dates of people associated with a history project. Information that may seem unimportant now may be vital to someone later.
As a caregiver myself, I know that sometimes we are so focused on what our loved ones have lost that we forget what they still have to offer. Caregiving, with all its trials and stresses, can be a deeper experience when we acknowledge the life that was lived.
This November is National Family Caregivers' Month. As we gather around the Thanksgiving table this year, let's remember to listen to Grandpa's stories a little closer. Scoop up the memories while you can. Write them down. Even a scribbled note may yield a treasure trove of information later. While you're at it, don't forget to write down your own story for those coming after you.
Gather the memories while you can. One day they will be gone, and you will be a better person for having listened.
