How important are our memories? No, not our ability to remember – I know this becomes an issue with the passing of years – I’m talking about all those precious memories stored up inside each and every one of us. Some will be exciting, happy, bubbling, while others will be filled with other emotions, sadness, loneliness, perhaps ever fear. But I think our survival instinct allows us to hold tight to the good memories and often lets us put aside less favourable ones.
Sometimes we need someone to help jiggle those memories. One Christmas one of our sons bought his father and me books to fill in on our life’s journey. What a marvelous gift. One day soon I will complete filling it in. The easy thing with it is that it prompts responses so one can have no excuse.
But without prompts, how many memories slip into the back of our minds and stagnate there? It takes something to force those memories out into the open again. Once they are out, why are we not sharing them with our loved ones? In my case, it’s laziness I guess. Providing my family history to generations beyond me is important to me. And yet I’m too lazy to actually sit down and make an effort to detail my own life’s story.
I doubt if my story would be of any significance or interest to anyone outside my family. But I know I have some memories very different from other women of my generation. How about you? Do you share stories of your childhood or early adulthood with your families? Thinking about it now, I’m not sure any of my family would stop long enough to listen. Their lives are full and busy. And tales of “yesteryear” are not very exciting against what is available out in the ether nowadays.
I should begin recording some of those memories least they be lost forever. How about you?