It’s my mom’s birthday. She would have been 88 today. It’s strange to think how many family events she’s missed in these past seven years. She was the glue that held us together. I wish I still had her counsel and support. I miss her nuggets of wisdom. I also miss her over the top drama as much as it sometimes infuriated me. Most of all, I miss her love. Sometimes when I’m in need of her direction to my better self, I still hear her voice in my head. The memory of her words touch my heart and offer deeper understanding. I know what she would have been proud of and what she would not in me.
I was just cleaning and organizing. I was just moving things that I want to keep and purging things I don’t need. Just doing a mundane task. But then I started to find them. Stray photos. They were tucked inside old envelopes. They were mixed amid old paperwork. I found them unexpectedly between the pages of books I haven’t opened in years.
I paused. My heart skipped a beat. There she is.
In this maudlin reverie I step outside myself, a time traveler of sorts.
You pause. Because suddenly you’re not in this room anymore, not in the present moment. You’re back there. Back to a time and a place where they still lived, where their presence was a given. Where the light still fell just right on their face, illuminating their features with familiar warmth. Where you still innocently thought you had more time, and an endless stretch of shared moments ahead.
And it hits you – the profound power of a single photograph to both wreck you and comfort you in the same breath. You stare at their eyes, forever frozen in time, and wonder if they knew that one day, this would be the picture you’d hold like it was made of something sacred, something irreplaceable. You trace the edges of the faded image with your fingertip. You whisper, “I miss you,” the words a quiet lament into the silence. You try desperately to remember what their laugh sounded like on that particular day, the way their eyes crinkled when they smiled, the exact feeling of just being near them.
You hold the photo tightly, almost like it might dissolve if you let go, as if releasing your grip would mean losing the memory forever. And maybe for a second, a fleeting, beautiful second, you feel incredibly close to them again. Like the photo is a magical portal. Like they’re actively trying to say, “I’m still here, tucked away in the memories you thought you lost, waiting to be found.”
Grief has a way of showing up uninvited, crashing into your quiet moments. But sometimes when it arrives, it brings a picture with it. And in that picture, a moment you didn’t even know your heart still desperately needed, a tender reminder of love and loss transformed into enduring connection.
#ourhumbleroad #loveandloss #griefjourney #griefjourney #memorylane #photographs #hearbreak #eternallove #unspokenpain #healingheart #cherishedmemories
Our Humble Road 