Friday, September 15, 2006

On the Edge

Last night, we went to visit someone in our family who is very special to us. She lost her youngest sister, and now she is the only one left. They were five sisters, growing up.

This special person, she has always told us stories about a house full of love and mischief. (Of course there would be mischief with five sisters.)

What must it be like, to stand on the edge of being... to know that you are left to carry on... that you hold the memories of a sisterhood... that you must remember to tell the rest of the stories, before they slip away?

Photograph by Gail Nadeau. Used with permission.
Telling Our Stories


Blogger Jennifer said...

I lost my grandfather this summer. His sister was there for the funeral and she was taking it hard. She kept saying that she was the only one left. I guess that's true--you say goodbye to your parents, but you still have your siblings, but then they leave one by one as well.

I had seen your thoughtful comments at Heather's blog. Thanks for stopping by mine today.

9:31 AM  
Blogger Charity Singleton said...

Maybe this is why older people often tell the same stories over and over. If the next generation doesn't pay attention and take ownership of the story, it will die.

I've heard this is one of the greatest tragedies of Alzheimer's -- a loss of memory means all the stories die long before the body ever gives out.

Great visual of this point by Gail.

12:11 PM  
Blogger L.L. Barkat said...

Jennifer... reminds me of a Luci Shaw poem... something about moving up the ladder...

Charity... about the photo... I've had this one for so long, with nothing to say about it... but I was amazed at the emotion it captured so perfectly, for today's thoughts... the girl at the edge, the deathly still room, the empty chairs across from her...

12:59 PM  
Blogger Kat said...

Hey L.L.!

I love yo blog! Girl you are smart and have such a gift for words. I want to hear more about your testimony of finding the Messiah. I'll come back later. baby crying and cat coughing up a fur ball.

Thanks for your kind comments...i feel honored that you would visit my blog :-)

3:25 PM  
Blogger L.L. Barkat said...

Kat... such generous words here!

Now, regarding the whole testimony thing, there's a book in the works which is due out next year... 'til then, I leave you with this (from my first chapter)...

I came to God through a want ad. "Piano for sale," it said.

In the meantime, there's plenty else for us to talk about... and I look forward to that, between crying & coughing spells, because I've enjoyed your thoughts, too. :)

9:26 PM  
Blogger Heather said...

Write the stories down. My grandmother told me great stories when she was a nurse during WWII about jokes they played on the doctors, tidbits about family history like the boy who carried spy messages through his drum during the civil war or the indian princess who left her tribe for marriage (yes, I have royalty in my blood). So many stories that I have forgotten. So many stories I wish I could tell. Write them down.

2:10 PM  

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