Sorting Through the Pictures

The one thing that helped the most the first week was going through the pictures for the memorial. Marty and I laughed and cried and told silly stories as we sorted through photos neither of us had looked at in years. It was a way to remember the good of my life with Karl in the face of the overwhelming pain I felt at his death. It was the only part of that first week that I can remember with any fondness.

There was the picture of Karl holding our dog Kiki the day his daughter gave her to him for Christmas. We loved that dog and she shared our lives for almost 17 years. He took her everywhere but especially to the park where he would let her run and run and run.

And there were pictures of Karl in uniform and with his grandkids reading to them when they were small and pictures at the lake and picture of me at horse shows that he took and him in his recliner and in his hammock in the backyard – which reminded me of the day one spring when he lay in the hammock watching the leaves come out on the trees.

And pictures of him building his experimental airplane. I remember well how much he enjoyed that and how when they first put it together, they found the wings somehow had ended up two different lengths. Pictures with his Cessna and his scuba gear (Oh my, remember the time my nephew almost drowned in the Marty's pool with that scuba gear?) Not many picture of him as a young boy, but then again, he was born in 1936, people didn't take as many pictures then.

Oh and look here's that newspaper clipping of him and our old neighbor, Teresa, at the opening of the trail at the Great Dismal Swamp. He and Teresa became such good friends after her husband died; he even cut a gate in the side fence between our two yards, so she could come over more easily. I remember, too, how hurt he was when she died unexpectedly. And I remember sitting with him at his sister's funeral.

Oh and here is his 60th birthday party, the one with the dancing girl. And remember this cake our friend June made. It had a little airplane on a runway and tiny candles as the runway lights, but when we lit the candles, they melted the wings on little plastic airplane.

And picture of his ex-mother-in-law who used to come visit us when she was still alive. Even though her daughter lived just four doors down, she would stay with us because she liked Karl better.

It's really a modern ritual this sorting through the photos. It's an emotionally healthy activity. It takes you back through the deceased's life. It helps you remember why you were in relationship to this person all along. And why that relationship was worth it even though it ended in grief.

Other things about the modern grieving process are not so healthy. In our busy, push-push world, we don't think people should take time out to grieve. Take a week off, be sad for another week and then never mention it again. Or of course there are those who seem to think it is a commercial opportunity – sell the grieving family on a memorial website, a fancy coffin, a bigger and better marble stone, a decal for your car window, etc. The costs of funerals rivals the (also way overblown) cost of a wedding - only you don't even get happy memories out of it.

The older rituals do provide some comfort or at least closure. Karl wanted a viewing, so we had one. And yes it was comforting to have the huge number of people who loved him or me to show up to remember him and comfort his family.

The funeral itself gave me a chance to publicly speak about my feelings for Karl and describe what a wonderful person he was. It was difficult to speak at the funeral but I'm glad I did.

The most moving part of the process was Karl's interment at Arlington National Cemetery. The formal ceremony was beautiful, the day was beautiful and Arlington is such a peaceful place. Karl had wanted very much to be buried there, I'm glad we were able to make it happen.

I miss him still; I will always miss him. But at least going through the pictures helped bring back the vital, interesting person he was after several years of serious illness. He hated being diminished; I'm glad the ritual of the photos helped restore the old Karl as foremost in my memories.