Gratitude. I was once asked why long deceased ancestors were of such an interest to me. I wish I could have summed it up so easily when I’ve been asked. The answer is gratitude. It’s been said that those that don’t understand history are doomed to repeat it, and as this is true; those that don’t understand history cannot be grateful for the blessings they have today.
As I wander up the branches of my family tree I find the wealth, poverty, talent and profound loss that those who eventually gave me life endured. I sit in my comfortable bed writing on a laptop, knowing that a distant great grandmother lost both parents and a brother around the tender age of 18 on a ship called The Mayflower. She married shortly after to a gentleman who was actually proposing on the behalf of another. One of my distant great grandfathers went missing and was never found, another died at 34 erecting a windmill on the farm that fed his family.
Oh the many wonders I find on those branches that support me. I am nothing but a mere twig, nourished by the love and sacrifice of the people that made my life possible. They loved me before they new me, putting forth courage with the knowledge that their endeavors could take their lives or well beings in hopes that I would have it better.
I doesn’t matter if you descended from royalty, peasants or slaves. It only matters that someone loved you knowing that they would never meet you or hold you. As we protest, claim entitlements we didn’t earn, and find piddly ass excuses for our filthy behavior and hate; let’s reflect for a moment and be grateful. ~ Past Lives Matter.