Angus
Angus, Grandson No. 2, is so called after his mums maiden name.
We all put a lot of weight on a name. And passing on the family name (through male offspring in most cultures) is seen as a big deal.
Plenty of folk, can’t, don’t or won’t, pass on their surname though. Either they don’t get married or have a partner, or they are infertile, or they only have girls, or they choose not to have children, or they adopt. Many don’t get the chance for the particular privilege of nominal longevity.
I walk through the graveyard every other morning when in Campbeltown, and repeatedly see what happens to every single name that gets passed on. It gradually fades upon the facade of a gravestone, and like everything and everyone, it eventually gets forgotten. Most of the graves have not got a single flower in remembrance.
Whatever we do to leave our stamp on the world, it will all pass or fade away sooner or later
It’s easy for me to be blase about all of this obviously. I’ve got five Fee sons, and five Fee grandchildren. So something is getting passed on. Never the less, it’s not something I hold great store in anymore. I’m just going to enjoy and get to know Angus, and all the people whom I am related to, or know and love, as much as possible while I and they are able.
Everything else is like the misty, drizzly clouds outside the window, which will soon blow away to reveal a new face to the world.