The phone rang. It was the social worker, verifying the details for tonight's family photo shoot. The photographer wanted us to bring extra dresses for the Dancing Queen to do individual shots as well. The social worker and I both laughed because DQ does love her outfits AND to be photographed. Of course I agreed to bring more!
She wished us luck for the night and I thanked her once again. Then I headed on my way into work.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, I began to cry in the middle of Washington Boulevard, Cobo Hall to my right, the federal courthouse to my left, cars around me at all points. F'ing emotions!
I continued across the road, hoping nobody would see the tears.
This is likely going to be the last professional photo shoot of our entire family together; the last professional photos of my beautiful, photogenic girl. How is that even possible? We've only had one other photo shoot with her. Will this only happen twice? That is just NOT possible!
My mind flashed to the radio show I had just listened to--the caller who said if he had to flee his home, he wouldn't bother to grab photos or mementos because his memory was enough. Clearly, he had never had to face the reality of losing someone he loved more than himself.
I don't want to forget a moment, a smile, a frown, a giggle. I don't want to forget any of the outfits or the witticisms. My memory isn't good enough. Photos, videos, drawings, mementos, this blog . . . those will be the only pieces left to touch, to hold, to see. I know my love will never leave, but that guy who said mementos are not important is full of crap!
Photos are at the top of my list to grab in case of an emergency. In fact, the special ones are in a briefcase always at the ready to come long. When we travel, our favorite stop is Cracker Barrel where the walls are lined with old family photos. They make me sad to know they aren't with the families they belonged to.
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Bonnie