A version of this post originally appeared on April 13, 2013, at the In-Depth Genealogist
I have been thinking about my grandmother, Eva Zielinski Morgan, a lot lately. She died April 18, 2011, at the age of 101+. She would have been 102 that June.
As I was thinking of all the family information she told me over the years (and taking my walk down memory lane), it hit me:
I screwed up. Big Time.
What was I thinking? Will my family forgive me? Will I be able to mend my evil ways?
Oh the guilt that I have!
The first thing that I must do is to confess my genealogical sins…
I didn’t write most of the stories down. Yeah, I can hear the moans and groans as you are reading this.
Don’t get me wrong – I wrote down names and dates when I got them and even worked on the family history with my aunt – but the stories?
She told them at random times and…and…I just thought I would remember them.
In some cases, I dismissed them. They seemed uneventful or not very colorful to me, so out of my mind they went.
Until now.
I used to talk to her every week (she lived 5+ hours away). While talking on the phone with her was frustrating for most family members (she couldn’t hear them) she had no trouble with me. I guess the tone of my voice was not a problem for her and I also didn’t shout to be heard.
During the last 8 months of her life, we moved her to another facility. This facility did not have phones in their rooms, so my contact with her was limited. One March evening, I received a phone call from my cousin stating that my grandmother was hard to wake up over the weekend, but that she seemed to be fine at the time of the call. I saw this as a warning sign, as my grandmother was only a few months shy of 102!
The very next day, I drove to see her and spent a week with her. It was one of the best things that I have ever done. She was blessed with being in pretty darn good health and being very sharp for her age.
I had a distant cousin send me an e-mail during that time, trying to find out who a certain woman was in a picture. I recognized the woman as also being in an album of my grandmother’s. I didn’t hesitate the next morning:
“Grandma, who was Gusty’?”
“Dusty?”
“No, Gusty, with a ‘G’ as in Grandma.”
She proceeded to tell me who she was.
I realized that Gusty was a 1st cousin to my grandmother.
All this at the age of 101+!
That is why I am confessing. She was bright and chipper until she died.
I missed a tremendous opportunity! I so should have known better. I am the keeper of all things family. I’ve been doing this a long time. I had 16 years to write all this down! She liked to talk about all this stuff (usually)!
How stupid.
Well {sigh}. It’s never too late. I am going to make it a goal to write down all the stories that I can remember.
In fact, I think I will start right now…
