my daughter's childhood photos

I have a few boxes of papers and some old photos that I have carried around for years. I have lived in CA eight years now and never opened these boxes, letting them take up space in closets, space I need for my present life, not my past one.

I have been going through these boxes, one paper at a time. It is an onerous task. I might find something, like a birth certificate, that I can't toss out so I had to look at everything.

I was surprised when I came upon a large stash of photos of my daughter, from infancy through high school.  At first, I thought I would make a digital copy for myself so I would still have images of her. But that costs money, money I can ill afford to spend. More importantly, to me, was the photos represent my loss. I looked at photos of my baby, toddler, middle schooler and I would feel overwhelmed with both my love for her and memories of how she was presenting herself in the world at the time the photos were taken. I always thought she was absolutely wonderful so I get flooded with feelings and thoughts about how exquisite she was at age one,  nine, fifteen, whatever.  It hurts to feel these feelings, reminding me of what I have lost and I don't think I'll ever get back.

I just packed them up and mailed them to her, with no digital record for myself.  I am trying to get rid of stuff to prepare for my move. I came upon a fat stash of Rosie photos that had been in a box in a closet since I moved to CA eight years ago. Obviously I don't look at them. I didn't want to spend anything to digitize them. I'm struggling over money a lot just now.

Old photos now strike me as weird. It's past. 

I never carried photos of her as many parents do because I carried her in my heart. I still carry her in my heart. I always will. But those photos, even though they flooded me with happy feelings and memories, also flooded me with a cutting sense of having lost my only child. I feel alone, unloved, bereft when I see those photos.  I had to release them.

She might have fun seeing her baby, grade school and high school photos (haven't really seen her since, eh?), showing them to her boyfriend. Or she might just chuck 'em.

anyway, I let them go but could not just toss them out. She can toss 'em but that feels like her decision, not mine.

I am surprised I had so many photos of her. And I still have an, as yet, uncovered photo album that I will also send her when I come upon that box.

​ I had the requisite nude baby taking bath photos, blowing out birthday candles, fancy dances in high school photos. Another life, one I am no longer a part of.  Every time I let go of something of hers, I feel sadness and gladness. It feels a bit like tossing things off a boat that has too much weight.​