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Abstract

The presentation of this project of degree meant going through my family history, focusing on the memories that are transmitted from the stories, narrations that become experiences. From the voice of my beloved grandmother, I heard daily memories of her childhood, her youth and her old age. This caused me, after several meetings, to ask me about the action of listening to the other, understanding that other as a close being, who wants to share a talk, a memory, a forgetfulness after lunch. It was then when I went to investigate what my role was as a listener: informal meetings, visits at home, in the cafeteria, walking through the neighborhood, any place became a narrative space, as time passed, the days passed, the weeks, the months, I understood that together we built a fabric, our meetings were important, she felt accompanied and as the days passed I realized that what I heard could be converted into written words. They arose then, meetings where we wove and at the same time we talked. Between the two we built not only a crochet fabric, but, beyond the material, our relationship was strengthened; I began to feel the need to listen to her and to share moments with her. LOSS. For my grandmother the loss means the absence of a son and for me the departure of an uncle. I remember one day I asked my grandmother: Grandma, how do you do to remember my uncle? -I write his name to not forget - she answered.