This weekend, I had the great pleasure of looking through my grandmother’s personal photo albums which included never before seen pictures of my dad, grandmother, grandfather, aunts, uncles, and various other associated parties.
In fact, it was just this weekend that I saw baby pictures of my dad—something I had never seen prior.
It struck me how grateful I was that those pictures were taken, collected, and saved.
And what I found most interesting was how much was coming back to my dad and uncle that they, just then, thought to share—things that I suspect would’ve never resurfaced otherwise. Memories that needed that trigger of a picture—taken during what would’ve been, I imagine, seemingly normal and nonspecific moments in time—to be revived in their minds.
…Moments that I, in my life, constantly question for validity and worth.
Like, why capture this moment? Why now? Why not in the next moment? Why not stay present and as aware of the moment as I can—minus the thought of how to best capture it? How to know what’ll serve the most long term value—capturing or thoroughly soaking in?
What I don’t know is how to answer those above questions.
What I do know is that, like my dad and uncle, there are countless memories laying buried in dark corners of my mind that need but a picture to be excavated and revived…
And no picture was taken.