The day my great-grandfather deserted the German army because he was a proud Austrian and no ****.
The day my grandfather was given away by his own mother because he was born out of wedlock, and shame to the Chinese gardner.
He grew up a half cast in a white family in racist 1940s New Zealand. No kiwi accent could hide his oriental blood.
The day my grandfather stuck by my grandmother's side, two kids barley 20 and not even that. He held her hand, looked into her pale blue eyes and said "I do". While she stood in a loose suit concealing her 3 month bump.
The day my grandmother took my grandfather back after receiving a "Dear John". Only three days. Then only a few years until she left his world and the earth.
The day my mother decided to fly home to rise a family. Boarding the plane with fragile luggage: me.
These memories form tangible family members will always remain close to my heart.
Those lost in a sea of faded photographs, told not to smile because the exposure was too long.
The melodies of a&t; g&c; will build my body.
The actions, thoughts, mistakes and growth: I will inherit today.