Memory, Emotion, and the Underestimated Power of Photos

For the past week I thought about the fragility of life and the importance of family when tragedy strikes.   And then my thoughts jumped to family.  Family history and stories.  Stories and shared experiences are one of the criteria that define family.  

I decided to pull out the dusty family photo albums to remind myself of life’s greatest moments with my brother and parents. There is nothing quite like my old and simple but immeasurably valuable family photo albums. Behind the wrinkled and yellowing plastic sleeves and fading covers, they house some of my family’s most precious memories.

I began dig more and more pictures and albums of my garage.  Some of the albums were larger than others, but all were just as important and meaningful. They revealed my family’s history which is unique to us and us alone.  Moments that led us to this exact moment in time.  The sad and happy.  The weird and normal.  How we lived with embarrassing hairdos, chubby cheeks, and carefree innocence.

As I slowly turned through each crinkled plastic page, I was transported to these environments. Some of them familiar, some foreign lost to long term memory loss. I read the eyes and body language of myself and my relatives. I daydreamed about the events and our emotions and how EXACTLY those moments played out.

I am reminded how important these photo albums are to me and my family. Family is permanent even if the exterior sentiments have shifted and some loved ones have departed their bodies, their ethereal souls bound for the greater space beyond this mortal world.  These fading pictures elicit pure and raw emotions from the observer.

Albums remind me of who I am and how my family has evolved for better or worse. I am shaped by our shared past and uncertain future. The colors though faded and faces blurry, show a certain extent, I am the same as my predecessors.  

As I wiggled each picture free from its sleeve, I think about the person who printed these images and labeled them with the date and persons captured in the picture. Someone had placed these images in these albums with love and care so that my family history would always be preserved. 

These albums shared a history of myself, as well as the history of my family, a history that will never be lost; saved by these fading old immeasurable treasures.

"Seeing this picture reminded me of how tall that tree seemed at 9 years old.  It was a challenge to see who could climb the highest.  To reach the tallest branch was the greatest accomplishment.  For 9 year old me at least!"