When we are small, we think our parents and loved ones will be with us forever.

We feel protected, loved and we have no doubt they will always be part of our lives.

Photo memories are made of the good and happy times and we don’t realise that along with the paper, those portrayed in them will slowly start fading away.

Often those photos, along with our memories, are the only reminders that they were ever here.

I found these in flea markets. lost in cardboard boxes. Who were they and why did they end up there?

When I look at them I can imagine a thousand stories, were they happy, loved, did they live life to the fullest? Did they leave with any regrets? How was their world like? What would they think of ours if they could come back? I wish I could bring them back to life and ask them.

But then I look at the pictures of my departed. And if I’m being honest, those are the ones I wish I could resurrect. What wouldn’t i give to have a few more days, hours, even minutes with them?

Memories keep flooding in…

That perfect day with my mother that we had both constantly reminisced about. That sunny day, the International Children’s day on 1st of June. I wasn’t a child anymore but that didn’t stop us from celebrating it anyway.

We would always go to the book fair in Lisbon where she would buy me a book but this time we had also decided to go to the movies. Afterwards we had  cake and tea at one of our favourite coffee shops.

I don’t remember which movie we watched that day because what was important then was the perfect harmony we both felt in those moments. It was such a perfect, happy day.

But also the  beach days in summer when my father and I would go for a walk every morning along the whole stretch. That was the time when I had him just for myself and we would talk about anything.

I keep the tradition now with my daughter and each time, I think about those walks father and daughter hand in hand, talking and laughing about life.

What about those days in Egypt with my first husband in awe of the ancient civilisation and stretching on a sun lounger repeating “Ah this is the life!”and all the other adventures we had together. I like to think he is still exploring wherever he is now.

Or the days spent in the company of Luigi, the first grandfather my daughter knew. Although he was not her blood grandfather, he was there for her in the first 4 years of her life and remained in her life until he passed. There were so many special moments!

His enthusiasm watching her first ballet performance, feeding the ducks, going trick or treat with her. And the last day we saw him, the two lying down laughing and talking before he and Carmen, his beautiful wife, returned to Mexico. But also the special moments with us laughing and drinking Cuba Libres.

Or the special moments with my father in law, who received me with kindness into the family, told me family stories and was always proud of his granddaughter and her achievements. I still remember the first time we left her alone with him. Both were a bit apprehensive but somehow managed to make it work and have fun together.

And those afternoons spent with my husband’s grandmother who lighted up every time she saw him and her great granddaughter . Those special moments sitting in her kitchen having cake and talking about the past and present life.

We cannot resurrect them but more even than their pictures, we can keep them alive in our hearts by remembering and retelling their stories. By cherishing the happy moments and good advice, we can pass them on to the next generation.

That is the circle of live …