Picture Perfect

"It doesn't have to be perfect

Every little piece of the puzzle doesn't always fit perfectly

Love can be rough around the edges, tattered at the seams,

But honey if it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me" ~ Sara Evans

Sometimes we experience little moments that might not appear to hold significance at first glance; however, upon further reflection, we recognize that they are truly monumental. I had such a moment this past fall when I returned home from work to find my sons’ recently distributed school pictures.

I excitedly picked up the paper envelopes and looked through the transparent plastic film protecting the photos inside. Despite the fact I was alone, I found myself audibly laughing. At that moment, as my intensifying laughter continued, I recognized the significance of these school pictures.

Picture Day

Amid juggling work meetings, orthodontist appointments, endless loads of laundry, and all the other responsibilities vying for my attention, I had somehow missed the memo about school picture day.

In past years, I would have had this date marked conspicuously on the calendar weeks ahead. I would have contemplated the impeccably appropriate attire and ensured that it was neatly pressed and pristinely laid out in advance. I would have guaranteed that all the preparations were made so that the photographer could capture the perfect images of my sons.

Now, as I stood in my kitchen looking at this year's renditions, I observed the old, somewhat tattered sweatshirts both of my sons were wearing peering out from behind the shiny plastic windows on the photo envelopes. I noticed their slightly overgrown hair, which was overdue for a haircut. I smiled as I spotted hints of bedhead, as well as the scruff on their unshaven teenage faces. But, most prominently, I saw the infectious, beaming, genuine smiles they both adorned.

Photos of the Past

I then found myself wandering from room to room, glancing at the framed school photos of years past that are flagrantly displayed throughout our home. On the mantel, I saw my boys in a younger state and observed the preppy half-zip sweaters I had selected for them to wear for the photo that year. On a side table in the dining room, I spotted the perfectly ironed collared shirts with coordinating ties and recalled the battle it had been to get them to concede to wear those outfits. As I looked at the framed photos in the living room, I noticed the fresh haircuts and strategic synchronization of both boys wearing the same shirt in two different colors.

After reflecting on the photos of the past, I took another long and contemplative look at this year's school pictures. I unwaveringly decided these were by far my favorite school photos to date. Despite the somewhat disheveled and unkempt teenagers staring back at me, I realized the true significance of those invaluable smiles. I also recognized that despite the attention to detail that I had invested in the previous school photos, my life experiences have allowed me to shift my priorities and transform my focus on what really matters most.

Experiencing Joy

When my sons lost their father just over a year before these pictures had been taken, I feared that they would never be truly content or experience real joy again. I worried that our devastating loss would ultimately destroy any chance of future happiness for them. I lost countless hours of sleep contemplating how I could make things better for them and ensure that they would be okay.

On one particularly challenging day early in my grief journey, a friend and wise mentor told me that she believed my kids would be okay if I was okay. While at first, I felt tremendous pressure by the prospect of having to be okay in order for my children to experience eventual happiness, I also felt some relief that I could take action. The concept helped me feel more empowered and less helpless, and it was then that I began investing in healing both for myself and for my children. The steps have been small and the journey long, but my kids are worth it. I am worth it.

The genuine smiles in those memorable school photos equate to the happiness that I feared would forever evade my children. Those remarkable pictures demanded my attention and serve as a powerful sign of our growth and recovery.

We certainly have days when smiles elude us and the tears fall. Those days are difficult and often unpredictable, but we have learned that this is part of the journey, and thankfully those dark moments pass. We are learning to find meaning in those wearisome days and apply the lessons they teach us to how we choose to live.

My ability to truly appreciate those perfectly imperfect portraits is indicative of my recognition of what is important and what isn’t. Rachel Marie Martin contends that, “Sometimes you have to let go of the picture of what you thought life would be like and learn to find joy in the story you are actually living.” Those meaningful school photos will always symbolize my newfound ability to shift my focus.

Healing

Shortly after I received those remarkable portraits of my sons, I received an email with the subject line "School Picture Retakes." I grinned and promptly deleted the email without even opening it. The less than flawless photos are perfect to me, and I have a feeling they will always be my favorite. Those pictures are now framed and prominently displayed on our mantel and serve as a constant reminder that we have come so far and we are okay.

Whether you are on day one or years into your grief journey, I encourage you to focus on the small signs of healing, the little things with big significance. Those signs are evidence that you are recovering and gaining strength. Relish in the seemingly small conquests and give yourself credit for the work you put into creating them. Those little achievements and victories are monumental components of the steps you have taken to reclaim happiness and joy, and you are worth it.

Love & Light,

The Unwavering Widow