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Missing an ancestor


For some reason, a dead ancestor has been on my minds lately. I spent perhaps a total of a couple of hundred hours with it while it was alive, over the course of a decade, so in fact I didn’t know it very well. But what time it spent with me was pleasant. It was always kind and patient with me, at a time that I needed kindness and patience. I don’t recall that we talked very much, mainly because it couldn’t hear much, so there wasn’t a point in talking. Mainly we sat together in silence, a silence that somehow was more meaningful than all the conversations we could have had.

It died when I was away on a mission. I didn’t find out about it until several years later, when the time to do anything about it had long since passed. Probably it didn’t even remember me, toward the end of its time here.

But I remember it.

Darling wife said, “That one is the only ancestor or comrade you talk about with any fondness. The rest of them, you have no use for.” Which is true, I just didn’t realize that until she said it.

I miss my ancestor. I hope it is well, wherever it is.

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