I didn't really know the deceased, but I knew her son quite well. I did know that she was a musician, loved tennis and her grandchildren. I knew that she suffered a long and terrible illness. Standing in the cemetery, watching her coffin being lowered into the open maw of earth, I was struck by the realization that I would never have the opportunity to really know her story, fears or desires - the inner workings that made her unique. Sure, there were some stories that I had heard, the same stories that were told every year. But so much was missing. I realized at that moment what an opportunity I had let go. Even if I could resurrect a few stories, I would never be able to truly grasp her past and her wisdom. The legacy of her knowledge was shut off forever.
A friend of mine helps people write their personal and family biographies. She works with a lot of elderly people who wish to leave a record of learning, love and legacy for future generations. What would it be like to know the thoughts and feelings of one's grandparents or great-grandparents? I cannot imagine the information, experience and points of views all wrapped in historical perspective; a gold-mine of memories that bespeak of one's history. It takes my breath away! Yet, there are those whose children, controlling the assets of their parents, deny this investment in personal history and collective wisdom, because, I am told, they do not wish to spend their inheritance on such trivialities.
We lose a piece of ourselves by allowing collective wisdom and knowledge to expire without understanding or a way of passing it down for the benefit of future generations. One cannot put a price tag on collective wisdom and memory, but we do. We sacrifice the ability to learn from the steps or missteps of others; we pass up the chance to learn why decisions were made and are therefore unable to properly evaluate the ramifications of those decisions. The stories of our elders provide us with a sense of who we are and where we come from. And what do we value above these rubies of wisdom and experience; a bigger house, a new car or a trip to Hawaii? Philosopher George Santayana said, "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." The word DOOMED speaks loudly.
Stepping up to grab the shovel, as was my right and obligation, I said my good-byes to my mother, wishing that I knew more.