Over the last few evenings I’ve been searching my ancestry
for possible answers. I was able to confirm to another family member that the
details he’d passed on to me of a young man killed in action during WW1 was one
of us, but I couldn’t leave it there. My ancestors had massive families and
there are many brothers and cousins likely to have been involved in the
conflict. It is on-going and taking me
in many directions, enough to give me a headache and a fear of forgetting what
my hand-written notes mean. And, to keep me on my toes, eldest sons are often
named after their father.
With the use of websites I started to research my family
tree in 2004 when I was housebound, recovering from illness. It gave me something to focus on and took me
on a fascinating journey of discovery. I’ve learnt a lot about my background
through the lives of past generations. I
wish such information could have been so readily available thirty-plus years
ago when my father was alive.
Dad knew very little about his mother’s family. My Nanna
Hetty was orphaned when she was a baby. I’m still unsure if she was formally
adopted or just taken in by the people who raised her, it was 1896, but I have
found details of her birth family and obtained marriage and death certificates
for her parents. I have the answers my father always wanted.
Up to now I’ve been able to track my ancestry back to around
1810, some of which is backed up with birth, marriage and death certificates
and information from census records. I know who they were, where they lived,
what they did and how they died. If only I could find out what their
personalities were like or what made them tick.
I found this poem by Sandra Osborne:
How many souls
Have come and gone
Before me?
How many had
The same questions?
How many
Found the answers?
And if they found them,
Then why does my soul
Long for the reasons
For their deaths,
For their lives,
The reasons for mine.
And if I should find them,
Will I have the wisdom
To know them as answers,
Or will I lack the understanding,
And see them as questions.
Have come and gone
Before me?
How many had
The same questions?
How many
Found the answers?
And if they found them,
Then why does my soul
Long for the reasons
For their deaths,
For their lives,
The reasons for mine.
And if I should find them,
Will I have the wisdom
To know them as answers,
Or will I lack the understanding,
And see them as questions.
Thanks for reading, Pam x
1 comments:
Researching ancestry can provide some interesting answers...
I had a great-uncle in Derbyshire whose nickname was 'Sambo' (wouldn't be allowed nowadays) on account of the fact he tanned so quickly and so deeply. When my father was researching our family tree he discovered an ancestor who had been in India with the East India Co and who brought back to Derbyshire an Indian wife - quite unusual for those parts in the early 19th Century. He reckoned that answered the enigma about why the great-uncle tanned quite so spectacularly - it was in the genes.
Good choice or poem :-)
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