When my Grandpa died this past October, we spent a lot of time going through pictures. My grandpa loved photography and had a camera around his neck every chance he got. So while we did find some wonderful shots capturing his joyful, contented smile, what we mostly found were pictures of us.
*My grandma and her four daughters sitting around the patio laughing with each other. My mom is pregnant with my older brother and is wearing running shorts and a tube top, tan as can be! My beautiful grandma has her legs crossed and her arms dangling over the lawn chair. *Click* I can hear the camera as he snapped the shot of his girls relaxing together.
*My cousins and I hunting for Easter eggs in the backyard, I am wearing only a diaper and my blond curls hug my chubby cheeks. *Click* I can picture my grandpa bending down to capture my toddler smile.
*My younger brother on the sandbar of the Mississippi sitting under grandpas umbrella next to one of his metal pop holders stuck in the sand. He is smiling that devilishly cute grin that he still sports today. *Click* I’m sure minutes after this one was taken we were all sprayed with water by my dad, skiing into the shore.
My favorite is one grandpa took from the balcony of a condo in Orange Beach, AL. Grandpa and Grandma spent several winters down there and it has become a very peaceful place for me in a couple different anxious times of my life. The picture I now have is one that grandpa took of me standing on the beach on a cold morning. I am staring out at the water pondering something serious, I’m sure. In the photo you can see his camera strap dangling in the corner.
I like to picture him pulling the camera up to his eyes, squinting, aiming, *click* And then pulling back and watching me a minute longer before going inside to get warm.
I’ve been thinking of Grandpa a lot lately. Missing him. Surprised at every thought I have of him, that he will not be there next time I go home.
I watch James now, playing with his trucks and cars, busy discovering his world. I watch him bend down to pick up a handful of snow, the way I would pick up a shell on the beach, turning it over in my hands. *Click*