“Looking at photos” has sparked an almost forgotten memory. It’s hard to believe it was over 8 years ago. My son, daughter-in-law and I were sitting in the waiting room when we got the, perhaps anticipated but not what we hoped for, diagnosis confirming that my wife of 50 years had cancer. My daughter-in-law looked at me and immediately moved next to me. She took out her phone and proceeded to scroll through every single photo in her archive, describing each one as she went. People and places I knew and didn’t know. I don’t know how long we sat there (hours), but taking my mind off what what had happened and the unknowns that lay ahead, and the beautiful love that was behind the moment was and is cherished and provided remarkable therapy for that brief moment in time.
“Looking at photos” has sparked an almost forgotten memory. It’s hard to believe it was over 8 years ago. My son, daughter-in-law and I were sitting in the waiting room when we got the, perhaps anticipated but not what we hoped for, diagnosis confirming that my wife of 50 years had cancer. My daughter-in-law looked at me and immediately moved next to me. She took out her phone and proceeded to scroll through every single photo in her archive, describing each one as she went. People and places I knew and didn’t know. I don’t know how long we sat there (hours), but taking my mind off what what had happened and the unknowns that lay ahead, and the beautiful love that was behind the moment was and is cherished and provided remarkable therapy for that brief moment in time.