One of those jobs is is to tell our family's stories, to shape our family history.
In our house, one way we do this is through the photo books that I've been making for about 12 years. The photo book shelf has now expanded to two shelves, and there are almost 35 books chronicling our family's life...in (mostly) chronological order.
My children love these books. They love to look through them and remember things, they love to tell the stories of "when that happened" and "when I was little" and they love to look at their own adorable faces and the faces of our friends and family. (Solly doesn't yet understand why he isn't in the books that came before he did!) I've learned over the years to include as many pictures as possible -- even the "bad" ones, because even those help to tell the stories. There are minimal words in these books, usually just a few reminders of the event or a sentence or two explaining who the visitors are, what's happening, or why these pictures are important.
|September, 2009 -- reading the photo albums|
Until this week, the last book on the shelf ended with June of 2013. Things were a bit uncertain in June. Sammy wasn't in remission. Our doctors were seeking out new treatments that would get him to transplant. I was scared. I kept taking pictures but I wasn't quite ready to make them into a book.
Last week, I finished the summer story. It was oh-so-hard. I knew that I couldn't stop telling our family history. I know that I have to keep going, somehow, to remember the good moments and the bad ones and keep our family moving...forward.
The new book arrived this week. Like all of these books, it is so beautiful:
It was thoroughly examined.
And so we keep telling the stories.
We keep remembering.
We keep on going.
(It doesn't make the next book any easier to create, however.)