Captured Memories

I took this photo of my mom on Christmas Day, 2011. We both posted it to Facebook, but with very different captions.

My caption: mom was really excited about her slippers.

Mom’s caption: My new slippers! This is a terrible picture of me but I added it because my kids love it. They think I look like a little kid who is super excited about a new present.

I don’t think it’s a terrible picture of her, do you?

My mom was the kind of person who always preferred to be behind the camera, one of the many things she and I have in common. She was always taking pictures or editing pictures other people took, but it was rare that she was in them herself. When we did take pictures of her, she always seemed to hate them. I wish I could judge her for that, but I know I can be the same way. But, since she always forced me to be in her pictures, I think it was only fair that I occasionally forced her to be in some of mine. I didn’t succeed in that endeavour as often as she did, but I still caught some nice candids of her sometimes - like this one.

If I’m honest, I forgot about this picture for over a decade. I only rediscovered it in December 2024, when I needed to be reminded of this version of my mom.

As I’ve written about previously, we lost my mom to gallbladder cancer in June 2024. The months following her death were full of firsts. We had our first everything with my niece, but also our first everything without my mom. Christmas was a first that had terrified me. My mom had always tended to go a bit overboard for the holiday and I struggled to picture what it would be like without her. But while they hurt, I still wanted to hold onto the memories I had of her from the holidays. Her Santa collection, the movies we watched, the way she always bought more presents for us than she maybe should have - I wanted to still hold these things close and try to remember her in her joyful moments, rather than the pain she was in at the end.

This is what I was looking for as I sat scrolling through old Facebook photo albums on Christmas Day, going through the decade’s worth of albums on both of our pages, checking each one that was titled ‘Christmas’ or ‘December’ and then scrolling through the photos and hoping for one of her and getting discouraged as each one turned up nothing. I silently uttered a hypocritical curse about her photo-shyness and was close to giving up when I tapped the album from 2011.

This is my mom as I want to remember her. Her joy and laughter are tangible in a way that simultaneously breaks my heart and brings a smile to my face.

I reshared the picture with a new caption:

“Mom usually preferred to take pictures of us than be in any herself, but I’m still glad to have this one from Christmas 2011. I love the sheer joy on her face.

Miss you today and every day ”

And then I made sure to save the picture onto my phone. I’m hoping to get it and a few more of her printed when I have a chance. Maybe I’m a little old-fashioned, but physical albums feel a bit more real and a bit more permanent than pages upon pages of Facebook photos. Safer, too, given how digital media can have a tendency to disappear. I don’t want to risk that. I want to always be able to see and remember this version of her.