connecting to my history by stories for my grandson

Both of my parents are dead and both of my brothers suffer from dementia. When I think about some aspect of my childhood I realize I have no one from whom to check the accuracy of my memory or elaborate on what I don't remember. Periodically I tell my grandson stories I do remember. As I tell him a snipet I remember even more of the details. It started out with remembering that my mother washed my out out with soap. He periodically asks me about the soap in my mouth and I remembered 2 times it happened- once I put my thumb to my nose and wiggle my finger at my mother. I didn't  know why that was bad (I still don't) and she pushed up a bar of soap into my front teeth. It tasted terrible. The other time I was playing with my friends on a summer evening. When my mother called me to come home, I pretended I couldn't hear her and that's what I told her when I came home. She had none of that and washed my mouth out again. More then the particulars of the stories I am delighted that telling my grandson stories connects me to my past.