(I am the) The Last Generation
It was a dark Friday night in April when my Aunt Gail passes away fourteen years ago. She was a single lady, with a roomate. She had no children of her own.
A hasty funeral was given, and the next thing we know is her roomate was calling my Grandmother with a very rude message. "Come get your daughter's stuff off my front porch, or I will throw it all away", he said. My mother and my grandmother drove over there, and were appalled with what they saw. All of my aunt's things were thrown into black trash bags like common garbage. It was heartbreaking.
My grandmother gave my aunt's siblings some of her belongings. Nothing more was said about it for years.
Then one day, my uncle downsized, and gave my mother my Aunt Gail's scrapbooks. These weren't photo albums, but memorabilia that my Grandmother kept when she was little, and later she kept when she was older. Mom gave the albums to me, because she was my Godmother, and that I would be the one to preserve it best of all.
I was fascinated with the albums. It opened up a whole new world for my sister and me, remembering an aunt that we loved. The albums are frayed with age, and I have decided to preserve that album, and let future generations (like our children, who were either too young when she died, or not born at all) can know what a terrific woman Aunt Gail really was...
Tomorrow at dMarie Daily: Why do I love scrapbooking?, by Amy M.