I have wanted to do a historical page for our family business website for some time now. In wanting to accomplish this I have asked my brothers and my cousin for pictures of our fathers. It’s kind of sad to say, but I don’t have many family pictures of my father, mother or brothers. I don’t have any of my grandparents.
After my father’s passing in September 2003 and moving my mother into a retirement home it was hard to go through all the “stuff” they had collected over the past 35+ years of marriage. My brothers took on the task of moving my mother, selling the home and going through all of their things. When it was decided I would not take care of my mother, it seemed to me as if I was not part of the process. I remember one day after my brothers had gone through the home I got a call from my oldest brother telling me to stop by to see if there was anything I wanted.
It was a day I will never forget. As I walked into the house I spent my teenage years in; there was an eerie echo of emptiness. The front door creaked as I opened it. I walked down the hallway toward my old room. “In my head” I could still hear the sounds of a motorized wheel chair following close behind me. All most all of the antique furniture and collectables had been removed from the house. There were boxes stacked in each room. I stepped into the first room on the right and there sat the blue antique couch and cabinet. Inside the cabinet, that once held a lot of my grandmothers belongings, where a few leftover items. I sat on the floor and looked around. It was hard to believe the room that was once filled with collectables was now an empty scattered mess.
I turned down the hall, by passing my old room in the corner of the house and walked into, what used to be, my oldest brothers room. I sat on the floor in front of a few boxes of pictures. There were hundreds of pictures. Pictures of my family, my grandparent’s family and my cousins. So many pictures, it was overwhelming to me. I remember saying to myself, “what would I ever do with all these pictures?”
These were not good times for me. I was bitter and angry and had not yet gone through the grieving, let alone, the healing and forgiving process. I was a new mother, who lost her father and still hated and resented her mother. It would be almost six years before I shed tears about my father’s death. Tears I still shed now every time I think about him.
I couldn’t imagine accumulating all the stuff my parents had. I couldn’t imagine taking home all of the pictures they had in all those boxes. To me they were memories I wanted to forget. Really everything in that house became things I wanted to forget. I remembering going through boxes of silver plates, cups, and platters. There were boxes and boxes full of stuff; stuff that to me, at the time, didn’t have much meaning.
When I look back now I wish I had taken some of the pictures. I wish I had the pictures to display on our family website. I wish I had good memories to share. Unfortunately the bad experiences fog any good memories I might have had. That is until today.
Today at work my cousin handed me a picture of my father and I. He said he asked his mother, my Aunt, to go through some old pictures and see if she could find any of my father and his. He mentioned to his mother the history page I wanted to do. As she was going through the box she came across a picture of my father and me dancing. She asked my cousin if he thought I might like it. He said, “I think she would love it”, and he was right. I looked on the back of the picture and it was dated 1976. I was eight years old. The picture brought back memories of me dancing on my father’s shoes.
I love to dance. I miss dancing. My husband doesn’t dance at all. He only dances with me on rare occasions because he knows how much it means to me. As a child I danced with my father all the time. See, my mother couldn’t dance as much as she would have liked too, due to all her complications from polio. But my father, he loved to dance and I loved to dance with him.
The last dance I had with my father was at my wedding; the father daughter dance. As we walked out onto the dance floor we smiled and giggled about the dance with my husband. We talked about how he needed some practice if he was going to dance with me in the future.
Recently my husband and I attended his cousin’s wedding. With no hesitation my husband reached for my hand and we danced. I can only think my father was in heaven giving him a little nudge. Helping him to keep rhythm and bring a smile to my face.
They say “A picture is worth a thousand words” I wish I had more pictures so that I could release all the words bottled up inside of me. Until then I share with you my Dance!
Luv, luv,
Julie
