As each generation passes, the fragments of what’s left behind typically becomes less and less. Take our ancestors for example. By the time we’re referring to our great grandparents, it’s likely that we ourselves have never met them. All that remains is a shadow of sorts; Remnants of the physical items that remain in the family, memories from our parents and grandparents, and the remaining genes that we share.
From these things we may form a perception of the person they were, the thoughts they had and the dreams they shared with others. Perhaps the perception we have of them is accurate in some form, but it could just as easily be inaccurate, because although we may have formed a picture of the type of person they were, are the things that remain enough to define a person?
If you take a thought towards yourself, how much of what you currently think and believe do you preserve in some way? Perhaps the pictures we take are a reflection of the things we appreciate most. Times spent with family, our love for food and nature. The way we express our love towards others may be found in the items we’ve shared, or the messages and letters we’ve sent.
If someone were to take a copy of all the pictures you’ve taken, the messages you’ve sent and the phone calls you’ve exchanged, do you think they would come to a fair assessment of the person you are? Perhaps they would in many ways.
But with that said, would I conclude that these things can represent the true spirit of a person? The person who experienced excitement and despair, peace and anxiety, love and heartbreak. The person who lived these things through a unique set of circumstances, during a time period in which we could never fully understand, without being there to experience it for ourselves. How about the acts of service that they displayed to others, or the many other aspects of them that go unseen? Perhaps these are the things that we could do nothing but assume about a person.
These are the thoughts that came to me whilst thinking about the person my great-grandfather was. A man who carved Radish flowers whenever he would make a salad for my great-grandmother. A man who softly spoke “We’ll wait and see” whenever my great-grandmother would share her faith in God with him. A man who I can only assume based on what’s left to have shared great kindness, compassion and understanding towards his family. The family who he loved more than anything else in this world.
Some sources suggest that we share between 4-23% of our genes from our great-grandparents. Perhaps with that comes a degree of understanding in how our ancestors thought. Perhaps the family who have superseded them are the only ones to have even a chance of understanding to some degree the spirit of their ancestors. Or, perhaps our genealogy plays no part at all.
For so many things are not within the grasp of human understanding. Perhaps all we can do is hold on to what’s certain in our minds, such as the things we have and the love we share with others, whilst curiously aiming to extend that understanding, in the continuous path to determine what’s truly important in our lives.
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