Kodak Moments

A picture is worth a thousand words. Some pictures leave you speechless. Then there are those that make you laugh so hard you cannot breathe, let alone speak.

They used to be called Kodak Moments, after the major player in the photography field. (Might have to explain that to the younger readers.)

With the recent passing of my father we inherited a few bits and pieces; a computer desk and laptop among them.

I was both happy and sad to see some photos of dad that I'd never seen before, on the disk drive of his computer.

And both sad and happy to have to find room in the cluttered corner of our lounge room we call an 'office', to fit the desk in.

As with any modern family, the amount of actual photographic images is far out of proportion with the number of shots we snap at any given time. These days the visit to the camera shop to develop and print pictures is a forgotten journey, and the trip down memory lane is a lot faster thanks to Instagram and the like. Digital cameras can run off several shots per second, and you can immediately see whose head was cut off, whose finger was over the lens, or even who forgot to take the lens cap off, which happened a lot in the good old days.

To me it means that the photos of old, taken on honest-to-goodness film, are a lot more precious than ever before. It was expensive to print pictures back in the day, and the shots you got were worth every cent. In some cases- priceless (like the picture of my sister and her man all fitted out for a fancy dress ball, but the only thing mum managed to get in frame was their heads)!

I wouldn't even begin to explain 'slide nights' to the current generation. They were even a little before my time.

Now it's just point and shoot and a lot of shots don't make it out of the camera, let alone into an album.  If you're lucky (or just plain organised) you download them to a disk.

So it was when my family started shuffling things around in the lounge room to fit dad's desk in.  In amidst the mess my Beloved discovered a CD of photos that his mother had sent us- going back to pictures taken when he was but a babe in arms.

Our boychild, who had been given the job of checking any such disks for important info, started to laugh at the thought of seeing his father as a baby. My Beloved took this as an insult and came into the next room where our girlchild and I were sitting.

"He doesn't believe that there are photos of 'young daddy'!" says the man of the moment, in a huff

"There are?" exclaims our daughter

"Because cameras weren't invented when daddy was a bub" says I, tongue-in-cheek

"No, I didn't think so" replies our girl, in all seriousness.

I won't go into the full reply that was given to us by the man of the house, suffice to say he was even less impressed, and amongst his mutterings about photography having been around for close to 200 years now and he wasn't that old yet, my daughter turns to me and says:

"What does it mean when daddy sticks his two fingers up?"

"It means he's not happy with us" I say

More mirth from me, and more grumblings from my man later, and the children finally took a look at their father in his youth.  And got the giggles again.

Needless to say my Beloved won't be lining us up for any slide nights in the foreseeable future.

The look on his face was a Kodak Moment for sure.

I just wish I'd had my camera handy.

Jx

©2012

Daddy's Girl

So the circle of life continues.

The man partly responsible for bringing me into this world, is by all accounts about to leave it.

I don’t know this for a fact, as he left my world some 30-odd years ago, when I was about the same age my daughter is.

But I’m told that the same disease my mother was battling at the time he left, is attacking my father now.

See, another circle.

To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m expected to feel about it.

Sure, I feel bad that Cancer has reared its ugly head again- I don’t wish it on anyone.

Yes I am sorry that someone is suffering, with no brilliant prognosis this time.

True, there is concern that people dear to me are upset about it.

Of course I should be sad that someone I know is in pain.

But the whole what-am-I-going-to-do-my-dad-is-dying thing, well I just can’t come at.

Because - truth be told - I lost my father a long time ago; I’ve done my grieving already, aged 8.

A lady I know recently buried her dad with whom she had a…shall we say challenging relationship. Without breaching her privacy or her pain, it was a similar story: he left, didn’t have a lot to do with them, and time ran out before the break was properly healed.

Yet she had the bravery, and inner beauty, to speak a Eulogy for him. She revisited the good times and the bad, and bid him farewell the best way she could: with honesty and humour.

I wish I could say the same thing for the man I know as father.

If I do get to talk with him before he goes, I might say thank you for having me. After all, without his input I wouldn’t be here now.  And I might smile at a cherished memory or two that survived the fallout that befell our family. I would even wish him well for the next part of his journey.  But I cannot tell him I love him. (Nor do I loathe him, just for the record.)

And hopefully one day I can find the words to explain to my children why they never met their grandfather, for all his faults.

So all I can do is this: support my family as they support him, and pray that when the circle of life rolls around again, there is no break in the bond between my own offspring and me.

Daddy’s Little Girl (©1986)

daddy, aren’t i your little girl? aren’t i your ‘supa-kid’?

well, then, why did you leave me here, wondering what i did?

your clothes are gone, your cupboard’s bare, not much is left behind.

your crucifix stays on our wall, one thing left to remind.

please daddy, won’t you come back home? we all miss you so much.

my friends still have their daddies here- a real daddy to touch.

but daddy’s gone, he left me here, he didn’t want his child.

so now it’s just the 4 of us, one less reason to smile.

my daddy’s gone away, you see, he doesn’t really care.

‘cause when i cry his name at night i know he’s never there.

but daddy, i’ll grow up someday, i hope with no regrets-

but when you leave your little girl

the pain’s hard to forget.

Jx

©2011