Pictured seated is Rosa, my great-grandmother on my fathers’ side. Standing to her left is my grandmother, Mary Blair. To Rosa’s left is her son, Frankie and standing just behind is one of Rosa’s sisters, either Alice or Hattie.
These are but a part of my family, lost until I began some research this summer. I was close to Grammy, very close, and her death created a hole that’s never been filled. But I’m frustrated with her, too. Why did she never tell me about her mother? And why did she change her name from Blair to Blaine?
I hate death. Hate how it cheats us from knowing those we wish to know, hate how time passes and dims our memories.
Life is now, I realize that, but I still believe we must remember.