I travelled to my birth home in December with my family to throw an 80th birthday party for my father. We enjoyed the celebration and I stayed busy making sure the drinks and food were restocked for guests. Consequently my camera remained on a table top and I only got 6 photos the whole night. In hindsight I wished I had assigned someone the task of taking photos. Why? Little did I know that 35 days later I would get a call that my dad was in the hospital. After 5 days of extensive tests and no understanding of the symptoms he was experiencing, he was diagnosed with cancer of unknown origin. I flew to Miami and so began the 12 days I had left with my father on this earth. I was so focused on advocating for him at his hospital bedside and later acted as his primary caregiver at home on hospice. I was in a time-warp. A "bubble" in which email, FB, my job, my responsibilities as a mom and much more were put on the back burner. It was a reminder to me that living in the moment and not being distracted by so many un-important activities of daily life is the key to happiness. My father, even in his severe pain, acknowledged each person that entered his hospital room- whether it be to administer a medication, mop his room floor, bring him his untouched food tray - and left them with a smile, a thank you or a compliment. That was just the kind of person he was. Aware that each person was special and deserved to be acknowledged. It is people and relationships that matter the most in our lives. When I consider this I realize that it is my scrapbooks that try to capture life in relationships.
I was unsure if I would speak at my father's memorial service. Could I do it? Could I speak without crying hysterically? Well, my scrapbooking saved me. In the days we were home caring for my father on hospice, I found a scrapbook I had made him in 2003. It was entitled "The Gifts You Gave Me" and it was an 8x8 album with about 12 double page layouts naming the many traits or opportunities that my father had imparted to me. I had actually forgotten that I created it for him and was amazed to read through it again. I decided it was the perfect thing to read from for his memorial service. A few excerpts that would impart to the attendees how much my father meant to me. So I didn't have to come up with new words while in my fog of grief- it was a scrapbook I had made years earlier that saved me! And now my children can read that scrapbook and know more about their PaPa who was only able to share in their youth years. So I say to you... keep scrapbooking! You never know what legacy, what memory, what gratitude those creations will one day bring to you or others.
