I have a very old tintype of my great, great grandparents. The eyes of my grandmother, aunt and father look out at me from the face of that ancestral grandmother. When my grandfather died I found myself reflecting on how his ways had shaped my father, who in turn shaped my values and attitudes. I, in turn, influence others. In this way, if in no other, we are all immortal.

I have an onyx ring of my sister Kaye's. I was with her when she bought it and knew what it symbolized to her, it holds cherished thoughts of her. The Christmas before she died she had given me a framed calligraphy cut-out that said "Chance made us sisters. Hearts made us friends." In my kitchen now hangs a black-and-white portrait of the 3 of us girls when we were ages 6, 7 and 10, with that cut-out above it. Although my son never knew her, she is a real person to him, with a history. Growing up, our closest family friends took lots of 16mm movies of all of us kids. After Kaye died, they took them and had them edited and put on video to give to us. These living, moving memories that spanned decades are more precious than words could ever describe.

Tears are rolling down my face now, soft tears of love and gratitude for the memories that the keepsakes of all my loved ones represent.