I found this photo while I was searching in my mom's house for her advent wreath. It's from her sister's tattered photo album, a treasure trove I'd never seen. It felt like a prompt to get me to kickoff my own advent calendar, a writing exercise this month I've been toying with committing too.
The image includes my Aunt Dee Dee, my mom, my sister Deb, my dad, my sister Chris, and my mother's father, John. The whole image delights with the old tinsel on the tree, my dad's round face, my older sisters being so young, my aunt as a blond and looking amazing, my mom not looking at the camera - I wonder what she is looking at because it surely isn't one of her off screen kids. Also, her dad, my grandfather whom I never met.
My mom shared some stories about him recently while she was in and out of awareness in the hospital recovering from her stroke. The stories were absolutely delightful, as was my mom as she told them. Once again, I found myself longing for things I never had in my youth - like stories of these grandparents I never knew, like a mom so warm and reminiscent. She told me how he used to love to hold her mom's hand when they went anywhere. She called her mom Lizzy, imitating his voice, and for the first time I'd heard my grandmother's nickname and got a sense for their energy. I went home that night and looked at their photo in our bedroom, trying to capture their energy.
I wonder who took the photo; was it Lizzy? The year must be 1966, given the size of Chris.
