Treasured Memories in a Suitcase: Part 1

My stepsister and I got engrossed in a box of family photos. There were photos of her mother and her father on a trip to Arizona as well as some baby pictures that were long forgotten. Her sister who died of cancer several years ago was frozen in time in photos from babyhood, her senior photo and photos of her with Sheri my only other stepsister. Bittersweet, aching sadness over past lives and dead relatives. Her father smiling with her mother, young and unrecognizable as people that I knew. I felt a connection with her although I felt a little sadness over not having any of my past in these photos.

Funny birthday cards popped up with sayings that rankled my stepsister, from my father to her mother. One that said there is no one luckier than me to be married to you, except for you being married to me. Ha.

Going through these memories brought my stepsister and I closer together. We never have had much of a relationship as her mother and my father didn't marry until we were grown. Through all the pain, illness, and aging and the loss of her only sister, we have formed a bond. I will always treasure that. They are not a family that verbally expresses feelings, where as I have a hard time not oozing out my pain. I think that they see me as a temperamental artist, but then again I am.

There were piles of scrapbooks and such that memorialized my father's Strato-tower invention and his business accomplishments. Many of these photos I will take to our local historical society. My nephew said he was written up in the encyclopedia, which I didn't even know.

I was disappointed that there were no family photos from my father's ancestors and of him from childhood. We were ready to go upstairs to surprise her mom with all the baby photos of her and their family, when I spotted an old beaten up brown suitcase sitting lonely against a back wall. I asked what it was and went to look through it. I suspected that it held a band instrument. It was dusty, and smelled musty. I opened it and there were a few paperback books in it and some loose photos with two very old photograph albums in it. I dropped to my knees as I held my breath as it belonged to my father.

I opened the first album and saw that it contained photos of my father's ancestors. Those of you who know of my story, know that he is not my biological father, but he is in spirit. Ironically we look similar in coloring and stature. My real father was similar in coloring and stature to my first father. These people were people that I have heard about all of my life. There were many photos of my father's relatives that he had talked to me about over the years.

It was the other album that floored me. It is one that I will treasure forever. Many of the photos in the first album I will see that my father's brother's daughter will get. It is her biological family. Many of the photos are of her dad and her relatives. I will keep copies of them but I believe that they should stay with their blood relatives. The other one I will keep selfishly to me, although not by blood his history is mine.

I will continue the rest of this story in part two of the "Treasured memories in the suitcase."