A couple weeks ago I posted about my grandmother, who passed away recently after a short 88 years with us.  I immediately volunteered to “work” on her photos, which meant that I could take a few of her oldest photo albums home to pour over, to hold in my hands, and to conjure up her life in my own imagination.

Her first album is like a treasure chest, with sheets of paper tied together with a string, beginning in 1924.  When I open it, I can gaze into a part of her life that I can only imagine.  Her life on the farm, her close relationship with her sister, her high cheekbones, her outings with friends, her achievements in school – the beginnings of a life that would eventually shape so many.

 

She always loved to travel, and as a young couple she and my grandfather visited Chicago.  I am struck by these images where she is standing in places where I would eventually also stand, walking the streets that I would also walk.

Most of all, I was struck by her wedding photos.  In fact, I sat in my living room with three generations of wedding photos in front of me – my grandmother’s, my mother’s, and my own.  And this means something to me.  These images, these memories, these events in our lives that we all shared – these are the stories that tell us who we are as a family.  These are the stories of where we came from, and seem to hold the key to where we are going.

 

My mom wore her mother’s wedding dress when she and Dad got married.  Aside from Dad’s questionable decision to wear a white tux, the images from Mom’s wedding and her sister’s wedding are such treasures.  Being able to hold them in my hands, to see my parents and my grandparents at their best, connects me to my past in a way that nothing else does.

And as I add my own wedding image to this collection, I feel both the passage of time, and how much things change as well as how many things remain the same.  I feel my place in my family’s story as one link in a chain, even as the individual lives, the individual days, pass on.  On our wedding day, I couldn’t comprehend how valuable these images would be to me now.  I couldn’t imagine how I would hold them in my hands as a link to my own past, as a way to help me remember the smiles and the feelings that make up my story.

 

(photo by Karl Dettman of Capital Photography)

My grandmother’s album and my mom’s album are like gifts to me, just as my album will be a gift for those who follow me.

Days like today, I feel so lucky to play this role in the lives of couples just like Kamran and I.  I see our work as link in your family’s chain – an heirloom to help you remember those you love, and to help those who love you to remember you too.