I envy those of you who have such strong familial ties to a city in a country other than here. I wish to be acquainted with stories about long-ago ancestors not known by me personally but fully recognizable by the tales told about them, like you do.
Unsure about my history makes me feel different, unidentified. It’s like a piece is missing from me.
But you see, not knowing is just one piece of the mysterious puzzle of me. The other piece is the left-out feeling of belonging to something larger than my nuclear family, as grounding as we may be.
|My dad in the NYFD|
And if I feel that a piece is missing from me, it is certain to be missed by my children at some point in their lives. Perhaps when I am no longer around.
That is when it hit me. When my parents were no longer around, the hole they left in my life felt profoundly larger without this bridge to my heritage.
|Doing my best to keep our legacy alive!|
I think we all deserve to be part of a family history….to be kept alive long after we are gone by those who knew us solely through the stories they tell about us.
|Me and my mom on my wedding day|