We are like trees, doing our best to stand firm yet entwining our roots with others to make us stronger, though sometimes it can pull us down. We stretch our branches, reaching out, growing a sheltering canopy of leaves to conceal and protect. The sanctuary of a close family.
Searching my family tree became almost a full-time occupation in the early 2000s when I was coping with illness and recovering from surgery. The task kept me busy and distracted me from pending treatments. As I delved into genealogy websites I was able to piece things together and solve the mysteries inherited from my aunt. A large, dog-eared brown envelope was crammed with old paperwork giving me clues and a starting point. It wasn’t easy and not quick. Days became weeks spent on the trail of a particular surname which I didn’t recognize but understood it to be significant because it cropped up a lot in my aunt’s stuff. The penny dropped with a loud clunk when I eventually discovered where it slotted into my family. A ‘eureka’ moment, indeed, and there have been more, along with frustration but lots of fascination. My mission is far from complete. I still explore and try to keep on the track of whatever branches I’m following, though I admit it is easy to become diverted. With the help of someone, not a family member but connected to me by a marriage which took place more than a hundred years ago, I discovered that the groom turned out to be a scoundrel. For weeks I felt guilty by association, even though the person is not of my blood-line and it all happened long before I was born. I would like to visit the war graves of those I have found to be resting in Belgium and France, fallen at the Somme and Passchendaele.
It isn’t all about ancestry. There are plenty of current, live directions to follow. Sometimes, I feel like my closest branches weigh heavy with the burdens of everyday living and I hope for better times ahead for those concerned. The present situations cannot last forever. “This, too, shall pass.” Said a wise person.
I found this poem online at Poem Hunter. It’s by Pia Andersson.
My Tree
My tree will know it all
The tree of my childhood
With the endless branches
And the many whispers.
My tree remembers
The girl with the wind in her hair
The girl with the crazy laughter
The girl with the fear of living
The girl I used to be
Before.
In my tree
I can see the world
But no one can see me.
My tree remembers me
The girl I used to be,
Before.
Pia Andersson
Thanks for reading, Pam x
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
