Friday, May 1, 2009

"i am nothing without you, but i don't know who you are...." - vienna teng

It's funny how we store things in little boxes, imagining that one day we'll go through them with time to reminisce, share, tell our story.

My great-aunt is dead. She died a month ago, alone and aged nearly 95 and her memories fading, drifting away. She was our family historian. I would look forward to birthday and christmas cards because they always held a story of her past.

April 19, 2004

Thank you so much for sending me the invitation to your graduation. It brought back memories of my high school graduation. Only 20 of us, but very formal. Wore long gowns - pink organza with ruffles topped with blue taffeta jackets with puffed sleeves from B. Altmann. Your grandfather and great grandfather ordered a basket of flowers and chose blue delphiniums and pink stock. The nuns loved it and used it on the stage - too bad we did not have color prints at that time, 71 years ago.

My beautiful, smart, adventurous Aunt Marie. How we will miss you. And your things all in storage so far away in California, with their secrets locked never to be told. What other tales you could have shared... what other life you could have breathed into photos...

Perhaps it's the plague of a lover of words, perhaps its the destiny of someone who lost so many so young. I sit and go through my own photos. Twenty-seven short years. Who will read my tale when I grow old? Who will carry the stories of my photos and poems and journals and artwork left behind?