I once read that our family stories are lost in just three generations.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately; earlier generations of mothers and fathers – those who birthed us and those who nurtured us in other ways. Those who came from distant shores and changed the course of their lives, and ours, forever; most of whom we’ll never know. Not just because we won’t get to meet them during our lifetime, but because they’re not generally part of our conversations. Bit by bit, their stories are forgotten. …