Why Are Memories and Photos All My Children Have of Their Father Now?

Photographs are moments captured in time, stirring memories of a time since passed, telling of joy and laughter, friends and family, yet leaving the difficult memories to the shadows of the picture to remain forgotten.

Are our memories true to the past, or are they reflections of what we choose to remember?

Raising my two beautiful children is the best thing I have ever done.

My husband and I gave birth to our first child, Samantha, and three years later, we welcomed Rebecca.

As parents, we wanted to provide the best childhood we could for them. But it wasn't about money. We decided right away I would stay home with the kids while he worked. Being a single-income family put some restrictions on activities, but this didn't stop us from going on adventures, camping, or spending time together. Their father worked hard to make sure we had what we needed at home, and we discovered many ways to enjoy life on a tight budget.

The girl's dad was a good father. He always wanted to spend time with them and hear about their days. When he came home from work, the kids would race to the door, clamoring for his attention as soon as he walked in.

One of our favorite family things was going camping, and it became a fall tradition. We have a lot of beautiful memories tied into those chilly days. Our kids still enjoy reminiscing about those trips.

We would hike, fish, or bike ride around the camp. Their dad loved to involve them in everything he did, from teaching his youngest how to start a fire to shooting hoops at the playground. But hanging out by the fire was the highlight of every trip when it was time to roast ooey-gooey marshmallows.

Game nights were always a hit, and we were a card game kind of family. The girls knew various games, but we mostly played Euchre or Skip-Bo. The older they got, the more we played. We would have Skip-Bo tournaments for hours. Each of us would fight tooth and nail to win the game, but it didn't matter once it was over.

Every time I look at pictures of the three of them, I find myself feeling a mix of emotions. I remember all the special moments we had as a family, but I think of today, and my heart breaks for what is lost.

Samantha and Rebecca no longer have their dad in their life.

The girls are adults now, and neither one has any association with their father.

After our divorce, everything changed. He changed.

Both kids tried to have a relationship with him, but roadblocks always seemed to be in the way. They have come to accept not having their father in their lives.

I just do not understand what happened.

When our oldest daughter was born, she was premature. Night after night, he would come to the hospital after working a thirteen-hour shift to be with her. I lost count of how many nights he fell asleep in the rocking chair of the hospital, holding her tiny little body against his chest.

She was his whole world.

Then came our second child, and he was the same devoted father now, just to two little ones.

He was always involved with their care. He changed diapers, read bedtime stories, coached t-ball, played silly paper football games at restaurants, and appropriately terrified prospective boyfriends. When Samantha had croup, he slept in the recliner so she could be upright and near her vaporizer.

Are the photos we hold so dear really our memories or are our memories crafted from within the pictures edge?

If only pictures weren't just reflections of our past but pathways to our futures. If only he saw what I see in pictures of our girls with their father,

I recently looked at a picture of Samantha and her dad right after she was born. The joy and love in his eyes were unmistakable. Then my mind's eye went to the day Samantha gave birth to her little girl, and immediately I thought of all the pictures we are missing of him and his grandchildren. Pictures of them with their grandpa.

I hurt for the pictures that may never exist.

Pictures are the hope and dreams of those in front of the camera. Although the lens catches only one quick moment, a photo holds the love and affection people carry within them forever. That type of love doesn't leave. It may get buried in the back closet under some boxes or in a dusty album. But it's still there.

But what is the unique developer that exposes it to the light where it can live again?

My husband and I got a divorce. It wasn't easy or pretty, but it was necessary. Divorce is between a husband and a wife, yet the kids suffer the worst.

They have a right to both of us unconditionally.

A father is a little girl's first hero and should be her forever hero. It is easy to chase away the imaginary monsters living under the bed. But, a child needs to know their hero is still there to make the world safe from the adult monsters. We don't stop being parents when a child grows up. It is a lifelong position. He knows this. I don't understand how someone can walk away from the purest form of love between a child and a parent.

I will always believe he loves them as much now as the day they were born. But along the way, something broke. I am not sure what, as no photo tells me this story. But it is broken, and I know hearts are hurting, and I do not know how to fix this. This may be the worst part of being a parent. When all you can do is stand on the sidelines and wait for something else in the picture to develop.