We are like trees, doing our best to stand firm yet entwining our roots with others to make us stronger, though sometimes it can pull us down. We stretch our branches, reaching out, growing a sheltering canopy of leaves to conceal and protect. The sanctuary of a close family.
Searching my family tree became almost a full-time
occupation in the early 2000s when I was coping with illness and recovering from
surgery. The task kept me busy and distracted me from pending treatments. As
I delved into genealogy websites I was able to piece things together and solve
the mysteries inherited from my aunt. A large, dog-eared brown envelope was
crammed with old paperwork giving me clues and a starting point. It wasn’t easy
and not quick. Days became weeks spent on the trail of a particular surname
which I didn’t recognise but understood it to be significant because it cropped
up a lot in my aunt’s stuff. The penny dropped with a loud clunk when I
eventually discovered where it slotted into my family. A ‘eureka’ moment,
indeed, and there have been more, along with frustration but lots of
fascination. My mission is far from complete. I still explore and try to keep
on the track of whatever branches I’m following, though I admit it is easy to
become diverted. With the help of someone, not a family member but connected
to me by a marriage which took place more than a hundred years ago, I
discovered that the groom turned out to be a scoundrel. For weeks I felt guilty
by association, even though the person is not of my blood-line and it all
happened long before I was born. I would like to visit the war graves of those
I have found to be resting in Belgium and France, fallen at the Somme and Passchendaele.
It isn’t all about ancestry. There are plenty of current,
live directions to follow. Sometimes, I feel like my closest branches weigh
heavy with the burdens of everyday living and I hope for better times ahead for
those concerned. The present situations cannot last forever. “This, too, shall
pass.” Said a wise person.
I found this poem online at Poem Hunter. It’s by Pia Andersson.
My Tree
My tree will know it all
The tree of my childhood
With the endless branches
And the many whispers.
My tree remembers
The girl with the wind in her hair
The girl with the crazy laughter
The girl with the fear of living
The girl I used to be
Before.
In my tree
I can see the world
But no one can see me.
My tree remembers me
The girl I used to be,
Before.
Pia Andersson
Thanks for reading, Pam x
5 comments:
I've often thought about it but never embarked on researching my family tree, though I do enjoy the television programmes about famous people unearthing theirs. This was interesting and I really liked that Pia Andersson poem.
Does every family tree have a rotten branch? I imagine so, if examined closely enough. Interesting poem.
A good read and I like the clever illustration.
My boss at one place I worked was really into this subject. If we wanted an extra few minutes on our break we'd ask him how his research was going.
Pleased that it helped you during your recovery.
Best wishes for any future work.
Very interesting Pam. My dad got into researching the Rowland family tree after my mother died back in the 1980s. Therapy for him, too. That's how I know that my great-great-great grandmother was an Indian woman who married my ancestor when he worked for the East India Company in Bengal. I enjoyed Pia Andersson's Tree poem. Thanks for sharing.
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