I’ve been extremely lucky to have spent time with my great-grandparents, grandparents and my parents. But late last year my maternal grandmother, Julie, passed away. We all called her Grams. She was my last, living grandparent.
If you’ve loved anyone in your life, that person stays with you forever but there won’t be any more phone calls, letters or visits. To accept that stings.
I will always hold the memories from our summers together, her peach cobbler, infectious laugh, competitiveness and strong, uncompromising will.
And while I have these memories of things we’ve done together embedded in my head and heart, there are thousands of moments that have been completely lost in the clutter of everyday life, until I’m handed a photograph.
I was sifting through a stack of prints recently and thought I would share a few with you.
This is what life looks like. A random memory mash up.
Grandma Julie and I when I was less than a year old.
Walking with my dad to my parents first apartment in Portland, Oregon.
The day my mom graduated from veterinary school.
The sunrise I woke up to on a boat in between Italy and Greece. And a few days later driving a scooter around an island in the middle of the Mediterranean. This was my first international trip and life changing experience.
My great grandmother a couple years before she passed away…the real prize for me is the note on the back. Her handwriting….To: Bryan Love, Grandma.
The most unassuming of this group…grandma Julie and I in a parking lot (taken by my grandfather) right before we raced go-karts. Yup…grams wanted to race. It was no secret she had a lead foot and she always wanted to win. Such a fun day…
And finally my mom, grandfather and grandmother at my high school graduation…grams giving my hat a try.
Not only am I thrust into the moment these were taken, I’m reminded of each persons energy and what they added to my life.
Like how Grams got so competitive in those go-karts. And how much fun she had taking those sharp corners in that little car. And how proud my grandfather was as he watched her.
I think about all the sacrifice and years of work my mom went through to earn her education.
Even though all these moments have shaped who I am today, none of these memories are thought about daily. But when I thumb through my boxes full of prints, the love I hold for these people and times becomes real.
And I’m reminded when I look through prints, without them, these memories would be lost.
So, this is the beginning of my PSA that prints are real. They’re important. Their meaning runs deep. And one single print lives far longer than a photograph sitting on a hard drive or phone.
Make prints. Make them today. If you need help or advise on making prints drop me an email and I’m more than happy help.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading about this little slice of my life.