It isn’t something I wanted to make a general Facebook post about but have told a few friends. This past Tuesday at 7:49 AM my Mom passed away. She was 91 years 8 Months and 1 day old. Born on a Monday she passed on a Tuesday. I too was born on a Monday morning. I had her for 24,774 days. She had a long life and I believe a good one. She was the youngest of ten children. She certainly had her share of hard times, as do we all, but she persevered. In her later years she often spoke of being the last. All her brothers and sisters had passed before her. She had also lost a son and a daughter. And so, with her passing I couldn’t help but think, I have seen the passing of a generation. She was the last of that generation that I knew personally. It’s a sad and sobering reality. An entire generation now relegated to memory. Setting aside my personal loss and sorrow I am keenly aware of that. It’s another revelation that only comes with time. No matter the level of schooling, no matter the circumstances, there are certain realities that only time will teach. This is one of those times for me. 

 Having developed an affinity for writing down my thoughts it’s something I will record as best I can. I have been working on the family tree for a number of years. Other than satisfying my own curiosity I have wondered what the point was. I suppose I have hoped that one of the grandchildren would take an interest. I realize however that usually doesn’t happen until they are older, like I was, before that  emerges. Younger people figure they know it all and so aren’t interested. Then, at some point, we begin to wonder. We begin to think about those that came before. Today, as I write these thoughts I am thinking, a generation has passed. Perhaps that process began thirty one years ago when my Dad passed. He was just 66 years old, I’m now 67. It could have been sooner, as he flew combat missions in WW2 but he survived that. It’s true that I knew few of my aunts and uncles but they are all long since past. The friends of my parents too, all gone. Generally speaking those folks were all members of what has been called the Silent generation. The generation that gave birth to the baby boomers, that’s me. The United States census estimates that in 2019 there were 23 million people of the silent generation still with us. Twenty three million out of about three hundred and twenty eight. About 7% of the total population. A number grown smaller just this past Tuesday. I have recorded hundreds of names, all ancestors of mine, many generations past. It’s a bit different when you realize your generation is next. Having made that entry into the family tree it became starkly clear. Truly, a generation has past. And now it is left to me, to my generation. It’s a responsibility. The silent generation brought us through, to this point, but their time is done. The baby boomers are the senior members, it is on us. 

 My world has become a smaller place, less familiar for the loss. I still have a brother living in Georgia that would understand my memories. And isn’t that what we really lose? Someone to share our memories with, to share the emotion, not the story. That’s the way it is. You hear a lot of talk these days about pronouns, using this pronoun or that. What I’m thinking about is tense. Memories are always in the first person, stories are past tense. When the first person is no longer with you, you share the stories, told in the past tense. Seems like most of my stories are in the past tense these days. And that pretty much defines aging. I’m trying to remember the last memory I shared with my Mom, the last story told in the first person, but I don’t know. The last is always a surprise. Even when it is expected, it is a surprise and a shock. But I will assume the responsibility handed to me by time and carry on. Time is a gift.