memory monday: a photographer’s eternal wish

Jul 31

Posted by: Rachel in: blog, family, memories, memory monday

(Additional note: It is only on Wednesday August 1st that I realize that I typed this on a Tuesday, not a Monday, thus proving a strong case for Mommy Brain as an actual disease inflicting mothers everywhere. But I think I’ll leave it as memory monday anyhow.)

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Why didn’t I take more pictures? I think this all the time. Some people would laugh at this statement, especially when scrolling through the 30+ gigs on my hard drive of his first two years. But there were many missed opportunities. I wish Scott had taken more pictures at his birth. And his first bath. Those are all blurry because the professional ~~nazis~~ nurses work so fast and he was screaming. Why didn’t I buy a better camera sooner? Why did I insist on trying not to use the flash the first month, resulting in many blurry shots? But the question I am asking today…why didn’t I take pictures of Caleb’s one trip to Georgia? My mom’s family lives there. She said my grandmother is ‘ready to be with Daddy.’ And I don’t have a single picture of my son with his great grandmother. I never will. I still remember the last time I saw my cousin William. I was about 13. It was the middle of the summer, and my mom and I were visiting family in Georgia. I don’t remember even knowing that he was a deputy sheriff. But I remember exactly how he looked. I remember how my grandmother’s furniture was arranged. She has this delicate loveseat covered in pink fabric. She had it positioned caddy corner by the doorway leading from her den to the sun porch. I had my nose buried in a Seventeen magazine as most 13 year old girls do. I didn’t even get up to see who had come to the door. He walked past the window between the sun porch (which used to be exposed to the outside, thus explaining the window between the rooms) and den. I was taken back by how handsome he looked. On his lunch break I think. He was in uniform, and he took his hat off and placed it over his heart as he entered the room, greeting three ladies as any gentleman would. When he sat down, he put his hat on his knee, and his arm behind my grandmother. Side by side on that loveseat. He looked so strong, and she looked so tiny. As if the loveseat may just tip and send her up in the air at any given second. I just sat quietly as my mom, grandmother and he visited. I can’t remember anything he said that day. I wish I could. I don’t even know whether I was listening. When you see someone so young, you never think that it could be the last time you see them. My grandmother said he came by once a week to visit. She seemed so proud of him. Looking back, I am too. Proud to have called him family. I remember hugging him before he left. I can’t remember hugging my grandmother last time I saw her. I know I did. But I can’t remember it. I can’t remember whether I was holding Caleb when I hugged her, or what room we were in. I can’t even remember what she looked like holding him. If only I had known that I wouldn’t see her again. That he wouldn’t remember meeting her that single time. If only I had tried harder to remember the details in those sleepless days with my 7 month old. If only I had taken just one picture…