I've decided to pack up the hundreds of photos taking up the dining room and put them away for a while. I'll get back to those family photo books I promised the kids, maybe next year. It's not the sorting and scanning that has put me off the task, although that is pretty intimidating. It's something else that I have even less control over. It hit me today when I changed my profile picture on Facebook, to honor my late father's 80th birthday.
I picked this one because it showed Dad with all of the important women in his life (he adored his mother in law). And that's when I realized, my sister and I excepted, I was looking at dead people. The realization grew that most of the people in the pictures I've been sorting and scanning are dead. It began to feel like I knew more dead people than live ones, and the ones that weren't were going to be one day. That's just about as creepy as it sounds, and it certainly is not where I want to go in this year of healing and re-creation.
Instead of wallowing in the images of ancestors, friends, and colleagues who've gone ahead, I am treasuring the moments with the people who walk this earth with me here and now. These moments will be gone soon enough. It is time to be among the living.