Where Have All the Stories Gone?
No one needs to remind me what I have lost with my Parents' passing. I miss them both each and every day. So much happens in my life I wish I could share. and I ache to hear the wisdom of life lived from them again.
But it's my children who are really missing out.
I realized when I went back east for a weekend whirlwind that was my Nana's 100th birthday, that what is profoundly missing in our lives is the stories.
I listened to my Aunts and Uncles tell what I call life stories - stories of what used to be, of laughter and fear and determination, stories that remind us what really matters in a world that seems to have lost its way. I listened to the laughter, I shared the tears and I FELT the life in them - the wisdom, the mistakes, the character that carried them through the tough times, the regrets, the moments of joy that I could taste just in the way their eyes lit up. I was quieter than I usually am, I tried to be a sponge, wanted to remember all of it.
They awaken in me a wishing I had listened more carefully to the details of the stories that need to be told and retold, the ones that paint for the listener the essence of the teller and the subjects and bring us together, past present future, the humanity of family.
We are a tribe - the belonging of shared history and futures entwined. And, given the events of the last year, the fragility of it all became glaring.
It also pointed out the need to cultivate those relationships that are real and true and discard those which do not nourish - even within family!
I'm still stewing on this story thing... uh huh...
But it's my children who are really missing out.
I realized when I went back east for a weekend whirlwind that was my Nana's 100th birthday, that what is profoundly missing in our lives is the stories.
I listened to my Aunts and Uncles tell what I call life stories - stories of what used to be, of laughter and fear and determination, stories that remind us what really matters in a world that seems to have lost its way. I listened to the laughter, I shared the tears and I FELT the life in them - the wisdom, the mistakes, the character that carried them through the tough times, the regrets, the moments of joy that I could taste just in the way their eyes lit up. I was quieter than I usually am, I tried to be a sponge, wanted to remember all of it.
They awaken in me a wishing I had listened more carefully to the details of the stories that need to be told and retold, the ones that paint for the listener the essence of the teller and the subjects and bring us together, past present future, the humanity of family.
We are a tribe - the belonging of shared history and futures entwined. And, given the events of the last year, the fragility of it all became glaring.
It also pointed out the need to cultivate those relationships that are real and true and discard those which do not nourish - even within family!
I'm still stewing on this story thing... uh huh...
posted by MysticSpirit (Sass) at 1:52 PM
2 Comments:
I've recently collected old, old photos from both my father and mother's sides of the family, clear back to my great grandparents, which are my grand kids great, great, great grandparents. I'm pretty much responsible for carrying this history forward, if I don't it dies out with me at least with my descendants.
My dad is in the process, unofficially, of verbalizing his memoirs and like you I soak up his stories of the past.
So many stories, so little time. I love all kinds of stories don't you?
My Gramma used to tell stories and we'd sit and listen for hours.I miss that.
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