We are a group of photographers who met through The Family Historian workshop. It is our goal to create a family legacy to leave behind for our children. We are doing this by telling stories with our cameras. But our cameras can only capture so much. And that is why we write. The narratives that we attach to our photographs connect the dots to reveal “The Big Picture”.
Untitled by Jessie Delany
Love is a funny thing. We know it exists, but it is almost impossible to define. If I had to define it though, I would simply say “My Grandparents.” Married for sixty-one years, all I ever saw them offer was love. Love for each other. Love for their favorite (and only granddaughter). Love for their great-grandchildren. Love for other people’s happiness. Love of adventure. Love of life. It exuded out of their pores. The catch with great love, however, is that you feel that loss even more when the person is gone. The love doesn’t disappear. No. It is there as strong as it ever was. That is what makes the loss hurt that much deeper. I see it in my grandfather’s eyes. I feel it in my own heart. There are days when you feel so overwhelmed with their love and your loss that functioning suddenly becomes a chore. But it is their love that forces you to keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Time doesn’t make the hurt go away. That is a lie. It will always be there, just like their love. With time, however, it does get a little bit softer. You are able to take a deep breath and do what needs to be done. To do what they would have wanted you to do. You write their name on your wrist tape and play your Championship football game. You find all the thousands of photos you took of them through the years and put them together so all their loved ones can reminisce. You bake their favorite cookies. You read the note they forgot to give you and smile since they always had to have the last word. You make the cedar urn that will hold your most precious love until you are together again. Yes, love is a funny thing. Impossible to define and impossible to forget.
“honored wishes” by Heather Robinson
today a nice elderly man came and bought the adjustable bed frame. he got a great deal on it considering it was practically new. Grandma Sandy was only able to use it for a few months. i know she wished she could have sold it before she died rather than leaving us to take care of it.
the old man told us that it was going to be a big help for his wife who has been struggling with mobility issues. i was glad to see it go to someone who needed it. Grandma Sandy would have wished for that too.
parting with her things is bittersweet. seeing you lie there on the side of the bed that was once hers is almost too much for my heart to take. my eyes want so badly to see her there beside you.
soon the new king mattress and bed frame will arrive in the mail and mama and daddy will put it together as we once again make this space our bedroom. we will take the queen mattress to the creek house and place it in the room where she slept when she came to the mountains with us. she always loved being there.
“The Climb” by Danielle Tejada
“Let me climb, mama! I need to climb.”
You got me. It’s been a while since we’ve played this game. Your sister started it seven years ago and still loves it today. I go through peaks and valleys myself. Sometimes wanting to play, sometimes not. But it never grows old for you. I have to be careful how I sit when we’re winding down for bed. Even the most subtle hint of airplane or climb the mama mountain, and all three of you start the chorus of “me first.” So normally, I sit down near your bed, ever so carefully, because I’m a tired mama – not a playful mama – and start reading books. It’s very serious business. But today, you got me, and I just couldn’t resist.
“Any School Morning” by Rachel Wheeler
6:30 am
Me: YOU UP?!?!
You: Coming.
5 min later
Dad: GET UP!
You: I’m up.
5 min later
Mom: Is she up?
Dad: She said she was up.
5 min later
Mom: Is she STANDING up?
Dad: ARE YOU STANDING UP?!?!
You: No.
“Library” by Bethany Braman
Organized, Utilized
Searching, Reading, Learning
We have missed you
Athenaeum
“Keeping Me Young” by Caroline Collins
You keep me young. I’m not sure why but in the past, when you wanted to have fun like skip in the parking lot, I would fight the urge. Maybe I thought I was too old for that but lately, I’ve been joining in on the fun with you. Maybe it occurred to me that I simply need more fun in my life. I’m not sure of the reason but when we walk into the apartment building, you often want to race up the stairs. You are faster than me but that does not mean I don’t try. Afterall, racing to the door IS a lot more fun than walking.
“Falling Away” by Angie Menos
I knew it. I just had this feeling that as soon as you started elementary school, time would speed up. That you would come home different almost daily. I knew this would be the beginning of your little self falling away. And now, quite literally, pieces of your babyhood are.
Untitled by Tanae Sorenson
For months, I struggled with feelings of doubt and frustration after finding out that I had gestational diabetes with you. I felt I had been doing everything right… but it just wasn’t enough. You know?
Doctor visits became increasingly stressed as overnight I went from just a pregnant woman to a blinking red billboard flashing “high risk” everywhere I stepped.
Your Dad patiently listened and encouraged me through it as I fought hard to keep us both healthy and for you to be born in your own time. The latter proved difficult.
At every turn were tests, pokes, ultrasounds, and inevitable talk of induction. But deep down I just knew you would come, healthy, safely, and on your own time. Your Dad trusted me, stood by me, and encouraged me, even though the planner in him would have loved the exact date of your arrival. I could not have been as strong and bold without him.
“A layer of gratitude” by Lauren Johnson
Dad takes you to school every day. Most days you walk. When it rains or he is going into “real work” (as you call it), he drives you. He cherishes that time with you.
Whenever he travels and I need to take you to school, with sister in tow, I realize how appreciative I am for him and this simple routine he does with you daily. That is the case with a lot of things, really. Sometimes we are so caught up in what we want or need to be different, we don’t reflect on gratitude for what we have.
This month, you received the Super Bear award for gratitude. Your teacher chose you out of all the other kids to be the one student that exemplifies this trait the most.
I’m learning in my journey through life that we find what we look for. If we look at the world through the lens of gratitude, we find it. If we look through the lens of lack, we find it. May you always carry gratitude in your heart and inspire me to do so as well.
“Your hair” by Karlie Austin
Your thick unruly hair is one of my favorite things about you. It reminds me of the hours I have spent softing your hair as you fall asleep. Lathering it up with shampoo and helping you rinse, always with heaps of water running down your face. I’ve taken to trimming the sides for you in between trips to the barber, a skill I picked up during the pandemic. Its strands, all out of place, pressed together in some areas from your hat and always your cowlick sticking straight up is the last bit of little boy I have left.