Recently, a project of mine ended before it even began. The person who was to be the beneficiary, and from whose memories the project was to begin, only wanted to forget.
It happens, of course, but it’s a sad thought, to be brought up in a way that one only wants to forget. No one should grow up like that. No one should only want to forget.
It’s a sad thought from a genealogical point of view as well. It is the beginning of a dead end. It isn’t just a person forgetting. It’s a family forgetting. The memories of an unhappy childhood will disappear, but so will the connections to generations before. Ancestors who lived long ago will join the unremembered. The present will become disconnected from the past. Perhaps someday those connections can be recreated—that is what genealogists do, but sometimes those connections prove elusive. Even if they can be brought back, something is lost every time we choose to forget. Even those things that, from deep down, and with every right, we wish to be forgotten, will someday leave someone wondering “why?”
Forgetting the dark times means forgetting the overcoming as well.