No families are the same, right? I wish mine is similar with those who are fond of memorabilias, having a sort of museum within an ancestral home, keeping ancient letters and land titles, church certificates or trophies, hair strands of my grandparents’ first hair cuts or their tortoise-thick eyeglasses. We don’t have, at least in my family; perhaps, my Nanay Poren has. Its great to have in my wishful opinion for some dappled reasons:
- Part of having a strong sense of personal identity is having a strong sense of one’s past, warts and wholesome
- Our biological families are our closest identifiable connection with the rest of humanity (read: you are not born from bamboo crack)
- You know when and how much Zagoo you could only gobble in a day if diabetes runs in the family and your weight is becoming a burden
- If a 6-year old kid starts blogging beyond control, you know who’s blameworthy (read: talent runs in the fmaily and so are habits)
- What about this: parents’ last will and testament especially if they big landholders and imperial in their properties and savings? (read: personal interests run wildly in the family)
Sadly, neither savings nor sepias of Latin masses my grandparents attended were filed for posterity or wealth rolling except this – my grandparents career, and I have a couple of representational records to show. They are worth emulating in their excellence and dedication until their old age.
For my grandpa’s, you may click this image:
For my grandma’s, you may click this image:
Forgiveness. They were good. I just miss them.