Memories

A.I. Generated Artwork

I had the dream again last night. In it, I am sorting through the relics of an inheritance I received separating things into piles and eagerly anticipating researching and looking at each and everything carefully to identify the story behind it and why it is so meaningful to me. But at the end, the people in the room helping me sort them into piles leave and I'm left with this sad feeling of what to do with these things. The memories of them are what make them valuable to me and I know they create no memories for anyone else. I woke up with a generally sadness of trying to figure out what to do with all the physical items.

This is probably the third or fourth time I've had this dream now. Having received similar inheritances in the past, I'm guessing it is my brain's way of processing subconscious thoughts, although writing this post brings them out to the forefront of my conscious. As I have sorted through things in the past, I have indeed written many a blog post on some of the memories those items brought me. After that, they have gone one of two ways, either being stored down in our basement laundry/storage room or reside in a barrister style bookcase that I built for my parents as a teen and now resides in my living room. The things not in either of those places were left behind in the initial sort and either went to the landfill or were given away to others. 

I don't know what to make of this dream but I suspect that is why I continue to write about my ancestors all the time. With enough time, all that remains of anything in this world are memories and even those disappear eventually if not continued to be told by the next generation. Writing on this blog is a way for me to continue those memories for a bit longer until whatever server these words are stored upon eventually gets disassembled and information not backed up elsewhere. I have always thought that perhaps I will print out all these blog entries into a book of sorts and give a copy to each of my children. I have them all saved onto my hard drive and backed up to the cloud with the rest of my data mostly consisting of photos and documents related to my ancestors.

Perhaps someday, if given the chance, one of my children will show interest in the memories I now cherish. If not, I guess that is okay because eventually all memories disappear, some just sooner than others. I know with each telling, the memory is diminished as the teller is only relating a memory told from someone else's memory. Much like a photocopy, details are lost until the point it becomes indecipherable. 

All this saddens me but also makes me more resolved to keep on with my writings and other methods I utilize to preserve the memories around me in hopes that perhaps it might make them last just a generation longer. It is a task of great joy and sadness at the same time, joy of reliving them one last time and sadness knowing that they too will disappear sometime in the future after I'm gone.