Where do you come from?

A few years ago I got interested in my family history; I wanted to know where I came from. At that time my grandfather was still alive so I asked him everything; I knew he was my link to all the history that would be lost when he was gone. He was happy that someone was taking an interest in our family history since no one had before. My father and I took months, and months digging up every ounce of information we could find. We took trips to graveyards, to libraries, and the archives. It got to a point where we became stuck, we hit a dead end and that is where we stopped. Soon after that my grandfather passed away and completing the family history seemed like something that I could put off.

Well yesterday I went with my parents to visit my great-grandparents resting place; my mom had never been there. Visiting the graveyard has re-sparked my interest in finishing what I had started years ago. So here I am again, looking through census records and death records trying to piece the puzzle together. I’m learning a few things I never noticed before, which is always exciting. I still am at that dead end I was at before but I’m hoping that looking at everything with fresh eyes and a new perspective will help me find the information I have been searching for.

Family is an important part of our lives; they imprint so much on us at such young ages. They are a part of us, all of them, how can we know ourselves if we do not know where we come from.

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