Making Memories

It’s been two days and we are a two-thirds of the way home. Dad is in Livingston. Mom is in Pearland. My brother’s are re-entering their normal lives. My daughter is in Washington and my bride and son are with me.

Two days ago we were surrounded by family, friends, and kind strangers. Yesterday, we said goodbye to family, and hit the road. Today it’s just the three of us.

We are pushing forward. A good 14 hours of driving will be nice, 16 hours better.

I’ve thought about the last few months and realized something very important. Without even trying we are making memories. Some are good. Others are better forgotten. Memories are seasoned with emotions that flit like hummingbirds – all over the place…quickly. Laughter. Tears. Highs. Lows.

Life throws us experiences. How we deal with them says a lot about our foundation, beliefs, and how we handle stresses, positives and negatives. Equally, how we learn to grow from our experiences is important. I’ve learned how to handle the bigger challenges from all the smaller exposures.

Along the way, I’m sad to say, I’ve dropped people from life’s equation along with associated negative memories. Some are gone because of themselves, some because of me.

But along the way I’ve stored some great memories that will sustain me on those days when it seems like there’s no one around to support me.

How Do You Make Memories?

Decades ago I was the school photographer. I’m used to a camera around my neck and poking the lens where it needs to go so memories can be recorded. From football games, to individuals, to celebrations.

But it’s hard for me to remember that today’s photo’s are more easily recorded and instantly enjoyed with that smart phone that is incessantly in my hands, or stuck in a back pocket. But I constantly forget. Some pictures are intrusions to private moments. Others are simply the wrong thing to do at even the best of times.

So. I’ve learned to record memories in my mind. Recall them often and enjoy them as if they had just happened.

Blessed Memories

There are any number of memories I could share, but one great memory was my nephews son. I didn’t hear him say it, but it was reported to me at the restaurant we gathered at after we buried dad. It had been commented on numerous times how much I looked like my dad… What did this 4-year old say?

“Pepaw!” he called out…
I had to explain I was Pepaw’s son…
“You’re lucky…”

I’ll cherish this memory!

While hanging out at mom’s, one of her neighbors who covers a lot of the same territory of life I do (dad’s job, my Channelview school, etc.), patted me on the face, “You’re so pretty!” Embarrassing, but I’ve shared this a lot! Guess that means my dad was pretty, also!

It was a grand honor standing with my bothers to say farewell, and then singing “This World is not my Home…”. Just for dad. What a blessing.

Some of the best hours of this trip were spending solid hours with my mom, and uttering my goodbyes to dad before he breathed his last.

If I could say anything, memories are better than things. Being with family is better than traveling the world. Knowing these memories will sustain me when the days are dark, and the times are cold.