Child Loss and Family Pictures: An Entirely New Meaning

I’m not exacly sure when it happened, but somewhere around age twelve I became a photo nut.  There was hardly ever an occasion when I didn’t have a camera in my hands.  I’m still that way today.  I have taken thousands and thousands of photos, and now that digital photography is available, I’m always snapping photos. It’s irritating to some people, but I love to have a photo to remind me of time spent together with family and friends.

This week while having a rare, but necessary, meltdown, I was sobbing in bed one evening and decided to look through some of the thousands of photos stored on my computer.  It wasn’t until then that the light came on.  I finally understood why photos are so important to me.  Pictures aren’t just pictures — they really and truly are “important” to me! 

If you’ve been following a little bit of my story, you know that my sister Carmella died when she was thirteen years old.  And, one of the most sad things I live with every day is the lack of pictures I have of her.  Not only do I lack pictures of her, but I don’t have any family pictures except the one posted here.

Please listen to my story, and I’d love to hear your comments on this.

I can remember this picture being taken in Egg Harbor City, NJ a few days before Christmas.  My mom and dad (in this photo) invited an aunt and uncle and my cousin to our small home for some home made pizza. But before eating, we were going to have a family picture taken.  My mom dressed my sister and I in brand new satin dresses, fixed our hair (do you like my crooked bangs?), and got us ready for our family photo.

Right before it was time to take the picture, though, my mom and dad got in a horrendous fight.  I have no idea what it was about, but they were screaming and yelling and I can still see the pan of pizza sitting on the stove ready to be eaten as they continued to argue and fight.  Suddenly, the pizza didn’t look so tasty.  My stomach was a ball of nerves as my parents continued to call each other names and spew out curses at each other.

After they calmed down, my Aunt Josie took this picture for us.  I remember hugging my little sister Carmella and wiping her tears away (it’s scary listening to your parents fighting!) and telling her to smile really pretty for this picture.  Little did I know that this would be the one and only family photo we’d ever have! 

This picture is priceless to me.  I’ve looked at it thousands of times and I know that before my time on this earth is over I will look at it thousands of times more.  This picture grows more and more precious to me with each passing day!

My sister was two in this picture and I was four and a half years old.  Today, as I look at this picture, my heart is so heavy because this is it — there are no more second chances for family photos.  Little did we know that in a few years my sister would be gone from this earth.  I had another sister born nine years later, but by then other tragedies had struck  our family– my mom had gotten very ill and was left partially paralyzed, my dad and mom divorced, and never again was a family picture taken. They would never agree to having a family photo taken because they didn’t want to be in the presence of each other — not even for the few minutes it would have taken for a photo.

Today, my mom, dad, and my sister Carmella have left this earth leaving only my sister Ruth and I.  This is our one and only family picture.  Incomplete.  I begged them to have a family picture with all five of us, but that never happened.

I made a vow when I had children that no matter what happened between me and their dad, I would always have at least one family picture taken a year.  Is it sometimes a hassle?  Sure.  Are the pictures always great?  No.  Of course not.  Is everyone always happy to have those pictures taken?  Not hardly!  But, those pictures are priceless!  We have no guarantees of our life on this earth.  None.  We never know when a child is going to be swiftly taken away from us and then we will have no more chances to have a “complete family picture.”

I realize that to parents this might not have the same meaning, but as a sibling of child loss, I wish so much that I could have just one picture of Mom, Dad, me, Carmella, and Ruth.  At one time we were a family.  I’d love so much to have that memory preserved for me.  There were many, many happy times on our farm growing up.  It would only have taken 60 seconds to snap a picture, but my parents didn’t see the importance of it at the time.

Child loss is loss on so many different levels.  We lose a sense of completeness. We lose a sense of family.  We lose a sense of identity.  We lose a feeling of togetherness.  One picture is worth a thousand words.  One picture is worth a million smiles.  One picture is worth more than silver and gold.

I urge you to make time for at least one family picture a year.  Why?  Because those pictures just might serve as a special healing and peace in years to come!

This is Carmella’s school picture taken shortly before her death.

Take those pictures, please!  They will bring some comfort in years to come!

If you’ve already experienced the loss of a child, it is my prayer that you have at least one family photo that was taken prior to the death of your child.  It might be too painful for you to look at just yet, but there will be a day when that photo will bring a bit of comfort to your soul.

Love,

Clara

I realize that not everybody shares my views on the importance of photos.  I welcome your insights and comments.  This is how we learn to travel through this most painful journey called child loss.

Read Clara’s Books:

Child Loss: the Heartbreak and the Hope

Hope 365:  Daily Meditations for the Grieving Heart

Silent Grief