9 22 pm pst [ artifacts ]
'Tis strange to experience a life in paper. I've spent
the day at my mother's house
going through the remnants of my grandfather's life. My beautiful dog has
looked on from his towel, sniffing the air when he deems it necessary.
He is so beautiful and I adore his company. He was
shiverring uncontrollably earlier and I talked my mom into letting his
sleep inside tonight. He brings us both such joy.
My mother rescued quite a bit from my grandfather's
home in Utah; her three brothers wanted to throw everything out. She
brought home his high school diploma from 1937, his original birth
certificate, my grandmother's original birth certificate, their original
marriage certificate, his honorable discharge papers from his service, and
his dog tags from WWII. We also have some of his original artwork from
his days as an artist, before he became a postal worker.
These frangments are all mine -- artifacts I have
inheritted by default; no one else cares. There are papers from when my grandmother was institutionalized.
My grandfather saved all of the paperwork from her burial. What sorrow
lies on those pages...
< yesterday
~ month ~
tomorrow >
Rachel's Daily Diary :::
the tip jar
evolving entries |
search this site
