Family history isn’t limited to blood relatives or those who have entered our family tree through marriage, adoption or non-traditional means.
Our families are broader than that. They extend to those we touch, or those who touch us, often in ways not so easily recognized by those just beyond our inner circles.
This realization struck me with gale-like force this week at the public visitation for my mother Elsie, who died last week. Mom crammed a lot of living into her 86 years, 66 of them married to my dad. Together they built their own home, successfully raised three rambunctious boys, managed to enjoy a couple of decades as “snowbirds” and literally made sweet music right up to the end.