So next Monday it will be two years since my dad passed away.

A few months ago my brother and I found a huge box of photographs of my dad and grandparents when they immigrated to the States from Poland after World War II.

The photographs are amazing (apparently my grandfather loved photography--I guess I got that from somewhere).

They bring up so many questions for me about war, refugees, resiliency, death, the stories we don't tell about our collective history.

I thought I'd use this week--when many people in the world are thinking about ancestry and death--to share a few questions and a few stories.

My hope is that the sharing will help me to make more sense of how it all lives on in my life, which is the only place I think I'll ever find any answers.