Photographs
Calder and I had a wonderful morning together. We played, laughed and talked about letters (I am a teacher through and through!). At one point I was feeling a bit down, so I got up and started sorting through some stuff I bought for the house. I had bought a few picture frames for Calder's room and I began to think about pictures.
I hadn't been able to look at the pictures and footage we took of Tripp, yet. I have found that some of my very saddest moments are when I let myself drift back to those moments with Tripp and visualize exactly how he looks. In those moments, it feels more real. He feels more real.
This morning I opened the computer and opened iPhoto. I picked a few specific pictures of him to look at. It wasn't a mistake to look, but it greatly affected how I was feeling. Now I didn't have to imagine what he looked like. I could see. The pictures were so crisp, I could see every detail of his face all the way down to his toes.
I started to cry and Calder came over and pulled himself on to my lap. "Mommy sad?" We don't lie to Calder about it. He is smart and it doesn't matter what I say. He can see I am sad, so I tell the truth. "Yes, I am."
He gave me a hug and a kiss before he turned his face to the computer screen. I was looking at a picture I had taken of Tripp's foot. "Calder's toes?" Tripp's toes did resemble Calder's. Tears began streaming down my face. Calder hugged and kissed me a few more times before I got my composure. We both hopped down from the table to play cars. I had looked at enough pictures for one day.
I haven't posted any photos since that first blog.
As the days wore on in the hospital, the photographs of Tripp began to feel a bit sacred to me. In the last few hours we spent with Tripp, Hugh and I were able to talk about this. We both felt the same. We wanted the photos of him only for ourselves. He was ours and by saving these photos for ourselves we could have details about him that no one else had. His life was too short to be filled with tons of details, so we needed those photos to be ours.
Some day we might feel more like sharing them, but not just yet.
I hadn't been able to look at the pictures and footage we took of Tripp, yet. I have found that some of my very saddest moments are when I let myself drift back to those moments with Tripp and visualize exactly how he looks. In those moments, it feels more real. He feels more real.
This morning I opened the computer and opened iPhoto. I picked a few specific pictures of him to look at. It wasn't a mistake to look, but it greatly affected how I was feeling. Now I didn't have to imagine what he looked like. I could see. The pictures were so crisp, I could see every detail of his face all the way down to his toes.
I started to cry and Calder came over and pulled himself on to my lap. "Mommy sad?" We don't lie to Calder about it. He is smart and it doesn't matter what I say. He can see I am sad, so I tell the truth. "Yes, I am."
He gave me a hug and a kiss before he turned his face to the computer screen. I was looking at a picture I had taken of Tripp's foot. "Calder's toes?" Tripp's toes did resemble Calder's. Tears began streaming down my face. Calder hugged and kissed me a few more times before I got my composure. We both hopped down from the table to play cars. I had looked at enough pictures for one day.
I haven't posted any photos since that first blog.
As the days wore on in the hospital, the photographs of Tripp began to feel a bit sacred to me. In the last few hours we spent with Tripp, Hugh and I were able to talk about this. We both felt the same. We wanted the photos of him only for ourselves. He was ours and by saving these photos for ourselves we could have details about him that no one else had. His life was too short to be filled with tons of details, so we needed those photos to be ours.
Some day we might feel more like sharing them, but not just yet.
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