I thought I would start by giving some context as to why there are words here for you to read. I have to admit that there are words here for you to read because I want them here for me to read. I find it helpful to write about things - sometimes it helps me figure stuff out. I grabbed this blog site a few years back intending to write about things I think about. But I never got around to posting anything. It was recently that I finished reading a book about string (random, I know - it isn't really about string though) that I thought that it would be a good time to start writing here. The book was an "assignment" given to me by my good friend Scott. I reached out to him in May for his thoughts and advice on a some things I was thinking about.
I was (and still am) wondering about legacy, personal history, and what it all means. I'm not certain I will ever have a completely satisfying answer, but I hope by thinking about this, asking questions, hearing from others, that I'll have a more satisfying answer - one that I can live with.
Here are a few excerpts from my email to Scott:
I think I've mentioned that my dad is suffering from some kind of dementia. I talk to him on Tuesdays and Thursdays on my way to work. It is sometimes hard for me to notice changes in him when we talk, but the past few times I've seen him in person, I can see a difference. He gets agitated more easily, he has an old-man shuffle about his gait now (that's the physical thing I notice the most). It is sad and I hate it. I wonder in the back of my mind when he'll cease being the dad I've known for all my life.
This has gotten me thinking about some things in my own life, and I actually wanted to ask you your thoughts on a few things, if that is ok... Seeing my dad and his worsening condition has me wondering a lot about how I will be when I'm old, and what life will be like when I'm old. I've never been one who has had that biological clock ticking to have kids. I like kids, and enjoy them, but I've never felt the strong and undeniable urge to have them. But, with my mom gone (she passed in 1984) and my dad in his condition, I feel like they (my mom and my dad) die with me. If I'm it, and when I die, what then? As humans, we collect things, and have things that are very dear to us. Yes, some of these are material things, a piece of furniture, a photograph, a piece of jewelry. But other things, even some material things, are more. My mom's and dad's wedding rings, for example. While these rings are sentimental and meaningful to me, I doubt they hold the same meaning to anyone else.
So, what happens to those things when I'm gone? Do they end up in an antique / estate store somewhere? What happens to all of the things and memories that I hold dear? Do they just stop? What do our lives mean when we are gone? Part of this is the historian in me wondering what I will leave behind as the history of me & my life and the experiences and adventures I've had. But who is going to care about those?
Scott and I exchanged several emails on this topic, and I'll share some of the excerpts of them here on this blog.
This is mostly for me - to try and help me make sense of what's in my head. And maybe for others who are thinking about these same things. Do you have anything to add?
This is mostly for me - to try and help me make sense of what's in my head. And maybe for others who are thinking about these same things. Do you have anything to add?
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