It's my husband's birthday (seems to happen every year) and I'm making a birthday cake. All decorated, bowls licked, and out comes the phone for the photo to share.
And then I stop.
Last year, my husband's dad was with us. We celebrated with barbecue, simple gifts, a chocolate cake, his parent, and the kids. This year, we're hoping his mom makes it. His father passed in September.
I wish I had a picture of last year. I don't. I just have a picture of the cake I posted to Facebook. I wanted a picture, but got waved away because people felt they didn't look 'right' and 'neat' or 'dressed'.
I shouldn't have listened.
His mom is downsizing and moving into a vibrant retirement community. We've been going through photographs. There are thousands and thousands of them. No one has eyes for the zillions of photographs of the Alps in the 40's, Paris in the 50's, or the Texas Panhandle in the 60's.
But those photos of family? His dad leaning against his car? Priceless. Those will bring to the eyes.
So I'm putting away my camera for now. And when we're cutting it and laughing and eating together as a family? Now THERE's a photo. It's the people I want to remember, not the things.
from Psychology Today - Relationships http://ift.tt/1ROc2DG
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