My daughter called me today for the third time and I immediately sense a sadness in her voice. In tears she cried. Tomorrow will be the anniversary of her grandmother’s death. I suppressed my natural tendency to try to make it all better, to protect her from pain and suffering and just told her to keep crying. For in those tears of hers was a celebration of Ira Sue Dickinson and the relationship she had with my daughter.
Then my daughter said something that resonated with me. She said “I wish I could remember more”. So tonight, I am going through all the old photos. For those photographs hold our memories even when our minds fail. Moments in time fade from our minds, but having a photograph can bring it all back as if we were reliving it today.
A photograph is … our history
A photograph is … our life
A photograph is … our love
A photograph is … our story
Do not leave those photographs on a disc stuck in a draw. Display them, collect them, write notations on the back of them. Feel their colors, their style, their place in time. Remember the smell, the sound, the love. For through them, one truly can REMEMBER MORE.
I will scan some photos tomorrow and embed them into this post. But I needed to write down my thoughts before I too “wish I could remember more”.
by Becki
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