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My aunt died in August and we’re finally selling my grandparents’ house. I hate it. It’s been The Family Home for three generations, and it’s like losing another family member. But nobody lives nearby anymore and there isn’t too much left of the hometown and there’s nothing left there for us, except the house and memories. Which isn’t nothing, but it’s not enough to make a life on.
That’s giving me a lot of big feelings, but more on that later.
What I’m here to talk about is the FIVE TUBS of family photos and memorabilia. We spent Saturday at my uncle’s house sorting through a lot of it. Lots of junk–over-exposed or blurred to unintelligibility, people we didn’t know, photos of trees, uh, somewhere. You know. But wow, the other stuff.
A selection of the treasures:
- A photo album from at most the late 1800s, including a photo of my great-great-great grandfather, my great-great aunt, and a range of other people we still need to do some comparison and research to identify.
- An entire stack of photos from the years my grandfather and his brothers spent riding motorcycles back and forth across the country while they were in the Navy during and after WWII.
- My grandparents’ wedding book, including the family lines on both sides back 4 generations–which filled in two names I didn’t previously have and fixed two others I was struggling to track down because the family names they were known by were leading me to dead ends.
- A stereo-opticon from my great-great aunt. Yeah I’m keeping it.
- A family Bible I didn’t know about, from my grandfather’s mom’s side.
And of course spending a day with family getting to hear SO many family stories and reliving happy memories. And some sad ones too.
My heart is full, and also sad.