I never met my grandparents. Not a single one of the 4 of them.
It's something that breaks my heart quite frequently.
I feel I know them from the stories I've been told, from the things they made that I can hold in my hands.

I wish I could have sat on the porch with them and heard them tell stories I've never heard.
I would have loved to have sit by my grandmothers' sides as they canned or quilted or spun or wove.
I would have loved to seen my Grandpa McConnell laying brick with precision and skill, and to see him creating instruments by hand.
I would have loved to have heard all the war and bootlegging stories from my other grandpa.

In all honestly I would love to have any memory with them, but alas I do not.
What I do have are scraps of them, scraps of who they were and what they did.
I have pictures. I have quilt pieces. I have a banjo. I have so many little scraps.

I feel it in my heart to take these scraps, that have been scattered near and far, that have been abused and ignored, and to piece them into the complete story of their legacy.

I want to be able to tell my kids and their kids about who my grandparents were. I may not have memories to share with them, but I will be able to share those scraps pieced together into a beautiful legacy that will last for generations to come.

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