Two photographs of Pam I look at every day are cropped close-ups taken from more inclusive vantage points. One has been further tweaked, as you will be able to see. It occurred to me this week that these photographs are a fitting metaphor to one of the ways I must cope with losing Pam and finding myself, in this new reality.
You may be familiar with this picture, as it was posted with Pam’s obituary and was on the front of her memorial bulletin. It adorns the lock screen and is the background for all screens on my phone. It is also the desktop background on my computer and is printed and posted as an 8×10 on my refrigerator. Needless to say, I see it often. Viewing her in the broader context of the entire photograph reveals the reason for her smiling eyes and impish grin. She is eating clams at an outdoor table (with brother and daughter) in sunny southern California!
The trip to visit her brother in 2019 turned out to be Pam’s last long-distance travel. And her daughters got her on the plane on this end and off the plane in CA. After her visit she traveled with her daughter back to the Midwest. Though her PD symptoms were still relatively mild, Pam was already struggling with cognitive issues.
I also love this picture of Pam with her favorite hat, and the knit sweater that was already aging when we started dating 28 years ago. But she loved it so. This photograph was taken in Clear Lake in December of 2020 where we gathered with family for an outdoor Christmas celebration during COVID. Though Pam’s disease had progressed, the gleam in her eyes and her loving smile reveal her happy, loving heart.
A framed copy of this pic sits on a table next to my easy chair where I pick it up every morning before reading from Healing from Loss mentioned in previous posts. I try talking to Pam, end up just telling her how much I love her and miss her, and typically begin to cry. I even printed a copy to put inside the book so I can easily take it (and the book) with me when I travel. And though it reminds me of how she changed, I see her as the beautiful, loving person that she was. And again, I cry.
A broader view exposes the reason for Pam’s delight. She is with her daughters who meant the world to her, and is celebrating with family during her favorite time of year.
I like to think that Pam is looking at me with gleaming eyes when I look at the close-up pictures. As with these photographs, I (indeed we) look at life in the context of what is going on in our own lives. But we must look beyond grief; beyond daily tasks; beyond ourselves. I mustn’t look at everything as tainted by Pam losing her life, or my loss of her. As I’ve said before, I look forward, while contemplating the past, and living for today. I am, we are, just a small part of the universe, trying to have some kind of positive impact on the people we interact with along the way, on our society, and on the world. Now there’s a broader context!
“Pamela Sue I love your smile. My heart is happy when you do. Your eyes are gleaming when you see me. I always know your love is true.”
It is so clear, through your writing, how very much you loved your dear Pam. I am so sorry you are having to navigate life without her. It’s one of those “life isn’t fair” things for sure. Thanks for sharing your wonderful writings.
Thank you Joan. Your replies are special and mean a lot to me. Happy holidays.
And you continue to have an impact on those who read your beautiful, uplifting words!
Your post (right before the song) ends like a prayer. Amen!
I sang the last paragraph!