During our second year of marriage, my husband's grandmother passed away. She was 83 years old. It hit him hard. He had somehow never pondered an existence that did not include her.
That has never been the case for me. I have always been acutely aware of mortality, of the brevity of some lives, of the inevitable demise of each and every thing I hold dear.
I believe that awareness has made miracles like my daughter's life all the sweeter for me.
I do confess to getting somehow stuck after my dad passed away. Life seemed difficult to define, lacking in purpose. His once tangible cheek with the stubbly bristles was no longer there to kiss hello. And, I confess to still being taken aback by his picture, depicting a very alive man, with the reality being very much to the contrary.
There was a desire to hold on, even when holding on meant a great deal of emotional pain.
And in holding on, I knew I was missing out - there were new memories to make, new images to capture that will one day take my breath away as I reflect on those moments in time when that was our reality, and there was laughter to accompany the smiles ingrained in the photographs.
And as much as I wish my dad could have shared in Christmas 2011 with us, I am so glad I woke up from my own slumber to capture the joy and miraculousness of the season.
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