Music is a bridge to our ancestors
You can wander on the arch of a tune towards the loved one’s you’ve lost.
For me it’s Marian Anderson’s “Coming through the rye,” a song my father would theatrically sing to us as children. Or my grandfather’s songs that he learned in Sweden’s endless spruce forests, during months of tending earth kilns for coal.
Our family has some twenty or more of these songs in our family jukebox.
You will have your own playlist of the ancestors, of course.
Carry it with you like a medicine bundle of songs to help your heart remember the full reach of your family tree, swaying to the rhythm of time passing.