Today I went over my dad’s house to visit him for his birthday. We gave him his favorite pie (banana cream) which my wife and I made last night, the kids gave him multiple homemade pies but the gift he seemed to most enjoy was something that wasn’t even meant to be a birthday gift at all. You see earlier this week I gathered up every photograph I could find of my mother (53 in all) and I gave them to him as well because he said he didn’t have any photographs to remember her by.
I don’t know it just made me happy and sad at the same time to see how carefully and thoroughly he looked at each and every photograph. I know nothing could bring my mom back but for one brief moment, I could tell at least in my dad’s eyes for the briefest of moments she was.
On my way home that got me thinking about how my mother lived for over 60 years all I could find was 50 something photographs to remember her life by, that’s less than one photograph per year. My mother practically wouldn’t allow you to photograph her and everyone, for the most part, respected her wishes. I hate having my picture taken as well but today I realized photographs people take of me are more for those who love me remember me by when I’m gone or gone for good as in passed away.
Every day I find myself missing my mom and crying yet at the same time something always pops in my head to make me smile or laugh. For example today I kept thinking about this pink elephant my mom crocheted for me as a child which I named Ellie. Death is a part of life, we may not want it but without it, we wouldn’t appreciate our loved ones and the time we have together here on earth. We have to start living each day like it’s our last.