Memory Lane

The dusty, old shed smelled of old boxes and mildew. She was pretty sure the shed had a leak in the back, but had yet to find its source. She had a since of duty about her as she dug through each box carefully. To her left was a large Tupperware container, the third one she had used thus far. As she looked deeper into the shed, she had a feeling she would have to get more before her task was finished. To her right was a large, black trash bag.  She was glad she decided to buy the bargain brand with more bags. It looked like she was going to need them.

The box currently in front of her held several unfinished scrapbooks along with many boxes and envelopes filled to the brim with pictures. Sadly, they were in no particular order, and she did not have time to go through and sort them out here. Things had to be taken care of quickly.

Still, she couldn’t resist the urge to look through each box and scrapbook and take that inevitable walk down memory lane. Usually, she wasn’t one for these sentimental trips, but this one could not be helped.

The first small box she opened had a pile of pictures, some already cut for the mostly empty scrapbook she had just transferred to the Tupperware container. As she pulled out each one, she recognized the pictures and smiled. They were from her wedding, over ten years ago. Mom never did finish that scrapbook.

She chuckled a bit, placing a hand over her mouth as she saw the silly picture of her husband getting cake crammed into his mouth. He had been very nice about just feeding her the cake, but she thought the cake looked better on him, than in him. Of course, just after this picture was taken, he had chased after her with another piece of cake to take his revenge. As she continued through the box, she saw the various pictures of the ‘casualties.’ Her husband had started throwing cake at some point, and ended up hitting two bridesmaids, the matron of honor, and her own father. She couldn’t help but giggle at the stoic but angry look on his cake-splattered face.

Another box contained a huge mess of vacation photos. Mom had just gotten her digital camera, and ended up following everyone around with it, snapping pictures of the most random things. There was a crack in the sidewalk, a wooden Indian, and numerous pictures of the back of dad’s head. She couldn’t help but laugh. It had been a really great trip, but you probably couldn’t tell from these pictures.

She was getting towards the bottom when she saw a fairly new box, decorated with little blue squares. Most of the other boxes full of pictures had been pretty old and she found it slightly odd to find a new box tucked away below the older ones.

As she opened this box, she realized what was in it and instantly dropped it with a gasp. There was a look of horror on her face as she realized which photos these were. She hadn’t seen these in about 3 years, which probably explained the condition of the box. After a moment, she calmed herself, and then slowly reached out to lift the lid of the box again. She took a deep breath before flipping through each picture. They were of her late father. He had passed away just over three years ago from cancer. Just as these pictures depicted, there was a fast disintegration of his body as the cancer took its toll.

Her chest ached as she looked at each one carefully. In the first several pictures, her dad had still held a strong smile, encouraged to fight it off. He still wanted to live. Her father never had been a person that would give up on life.

As time wore on, the smiles had become weaker and weaker. She hadn’t really remembered the weakening smiles at the time, but now, looking at these pictures, it was painfully obvious how badly his health had become.

A tear slipped down her check as she continued pulling out one picture after another, wanting to memorize each one. Before she had found this box, she had been constantly checking the time to make sure she could get done what she wanted to today. Time had no meaning to her at this moment. Reflecting was far more important. It hurt to think about the long couple of months that her father had fought and struggled, but she wanted to always remember him.

The last picture was taken the night before he passed away. He had spent nearly one month in a Hospice facility. Mom had stayed with him the entire time, leaving her and her husband to travel back and forth. She felt more tears fall to her lap as she saw how frail her father had become. He was sitting in his hospital bed with a framed certificate, and mom was sitting beside him on one side, holding his hand. Next to him on the other side was a good friend of the family, posing in a handshake for the camera.

The certificate was for the completion of a religion college program, affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention. She couldn’t remember exactly what the program had been called, but for the entire year before he had passed, her father had been studying and taking these classes by mail. The friend of the family that stood beside him in the picture had completed the course a few months earlier and was capable of presenting the certificate.

She placed the picture in the box, but didn’t close it, crying as she recalled what had happened the next day. Mom had called her that morning, telling her that dad had passed away in his sleep. Apparently, he had felt that his life was complete.
---

Word Count: 995