"A man lives as long..... as he is remembered" Your tombstone stands among the rest; Neglected and alone. The name and date are chiseled out On polished, marbled stone. It reaches out to all who care It is too late to mourn. You did not know that I exist You died and I was born. Yet each of us are cells of you In flesh, in blood, in bone. Our blood contracts and beats a pulse Entirely not our own. Throw back the shoulders, let the heart sing, let the eyes flash, let the mind be lifted up, look upward and say to yourself . . . Nothing is impossible." Dear Ancestor, the place you filled One hundred years ago Spreads out among the ones you left Who would have loved you so. I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew That someday I would find this spot, And come to visit you. Author unknown
When your loved on becomes a Memory, Every Memory becomes a TREASURE:)
The best moments as a researcher are the surprises. I guess researchers are prospectors, too. As a writer, weaving multiple layers of fact and giving them a narrative voice is a great adventure, which is probably my best motivation for going further.
Genealogy begins as an interest, then becomes a hobby, continues as an advocation, and in the last stages is an incurable disease.
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