Photo Albums

Tonight we found my old photo albums and the night sailed by quickly.  This was a happy turn of events as the late afternoon and dinner time was especially stressful for some reason.  There was little listening, lots of sibling rivalry, and lots of mom yelling.  We headed to our bedtime routine early and, as it usually happens, the kids began getting along splendidly.  

Thinking better of getting involved, I took advantage of their play to briefly check my facebook account when one of my children saw a picture of my sister in her bridesmaid gown looking a few years younger then.  They asked to see more photos of my wedding.

So, to the dusty basement I went to fetch my wedding album and another my sister had put together for me.  Oh, the stories that unfolded . . .

For the next two hours, I told stories of my childhood, connecting the dots between their aunts, uncles, and grandparents who are my sister, brother, and parents.  I introduced them to their great grandparents, most of whom have passed.

 

I introduced them to high school and college friends, some I couldn't even name.  I showed them pictures of old boyfriends and dance dates. I told them of activities I did, awards I earned, and fun times I shared.  They saw three different graduations, a wedding shower, and the big day for me and their dad.  They were fond of repeating the phrase, "You may now kiss the bride."  The big kiss may have been the hit of the night!

I even showed them my hair - my REALLY BIG hair!

But, the photo that meant the most, the one I didn't even know I had, and the one I will not show here, was the photo of my sister and her husband holding their firstborn, Gracie - with sheer and painful sadness in their eyes.  The emotion was palpable and my kids certainly understood it.  Gracie was born too early and died about 30 minutes after she was born.  She was just too little - so little that she fit in the palm of her daddy's hand.  She was the first grandchild for my parents, my first niece, and my first godchild.  I remember her life and death as the saddest time of my life.

My children have not experienced death, but they knew the sadness in that photo.  They knew the love in that photo.  My son, who doesn't always strike me as deep or compassionate, broke into a sob.  He wanted held.  My oldest daughter didn't want to put the picture away.  She wanted to study it, to get to know Gracie in a way that none of us ever will.  My youngest daughter cried because we were. 

It was a moment I never anticipated.  It was a moment of surprise.  It was a moment of connection, deeper than many others we've shared.  It was a moment I will cherish forever.