Should I burn my old family photos?

DEAR BEL,

I KNOW this is unusual but it’s something niggling away at me and I wonder if you have any helpful thoughts.

I’m 77 — mother of two sons (53 and 51) who both live a long distance away. One never married; the other married a lady with two grown-up children. So he has two lovely stepgrandchildren, whom I see when I can.

My problem is this: I am an only child and my parents are long dead. I’ve been left with a stack of family photos from both sides of the family, including great-grandparents.

After a good old sort out during the lockdown, I’ve now got tins of photos I no longer need or want, but how do I get rid of them?

They are all part of my family and my history. There are lots of me as a baby and young child but they’re just taking up space, which is at a premium in my onebedroom bungalow. I can’t contemplate a bonfire.

My boys aren’t interested in any of it — except one of them may like some of my dad’s war memorabilia from Italy, Jerusalem and the desert. I never knew what rank or regiment he was in, but at the bottom of a tobacco tin I found a telegram with all his details, so I’m now able to research his Army time, as he’d never talk about it.

He must have had a terrific story to tell. Now I’m beginning to realise I wish I knew more.

As for the rest . . . what to do? I expect others may also have this dilemma. JANE

WHere do our stories go when we die? The most ordinary people can have extraordinary importance to those who love them, yet their stories still remain untold.

Some families cherish family history; I know my adult children are as interested in my non-famous Liverpool background as in the very different heritage of their father. But of course, at some stage interest, and the knowledge it sparks, will slowly, inevitably fade away.

I still can’t help feeling a bit sad to see old photograph albums in junk shops, and wish (sentimentally, perhaps) that somebody had held on to Great-Grandmother’s fuzzy relics.

It actually surprises me that only one of your sons is ‘maybe’ interested in your father’s war memorabilia. My favourite Antiques roadshow presenter is the militaria expert Mark Smith, because he seems locked on to an emotional wavelength when it comes to those long-dead soldiers, sailors and air crew.

And you yourself have proved, by your sudden, late-flowering interest, that the past never wholly dies.

In your place, I would go through all the photographs and pick out the very best ones from the generations you have. Then type (and print out) as much knowledge as you have for each one. It might be just a name of course, but even a rough date is good.

It also takes a minute to look up online a few key things going on in Britain and the world when x was born or married. Put the facts down in the captions. Obviously, you’ll know most about your own life so set it down.

Then get a scrap-book and a glue stick and assemble an album. I would also make a separate, special one for your father’s army career, putting it all in a document and buying a good ‘memory box’ to contain the document and the memorabilia.

I would then present these two treasures (for so they are) to your married son as a gift, and suggest he keeps them for his grandchildren. Who knows? They might be historians one day.

As for the rest, I think I would bury them (some people will complain about chemicals leaching into the earth) or burn them (the same people will say it’s pollution) to give you a sense of an ending. Those souls who once lived and breathed will be honoured by the ritual, especially if you give them the blessing of a spoken, ‘Goodbye’.