My grandfather has been here for a week long visit, which means there is an extra cup of coffee to make in the morning, another place setting at the table, another person to laugh with, and a whole lifetime of stories.
There is something about grandparents, they have the best stories. I count myself undeniably blessed to have this time with him, to hold tight to his childhood memories and to hear about the people that I never met, but without them, I wouldn't be here. There are the war stories. The love stories. The we-lived-through-hard-time stories. And there are the family secret stories. Each one important and lending itself to the next.
This past week, I have gained insight and knowledge about generations past, and somehow, I feel more connected to my family ties, it's almost as though their legacy continues to live on through those stories, and by sharing the memories, they are never forgotten.
I plan on telling AJ all of them one day, reminding him of where he came from, the generational lineage laid out before him. I will tell him of the strong men who worked laboriously and tirelessly to provide for their families, and I will tell him of the kind women who supported and loved those men.
A legacy is only forgotten if you fail to tell the story.