They occupy a certain shelf on the bookcase, corner of a room or position in a box. They are brought out to review history and remember the past and keep an amazing record of people places and time. They are family albums. Not usually the most professionally done, often worn with age and well loved, you see the early days of photography and film and usually there is at least one camera buff in the family who captured more shots than the rest.
In the past few days we attended the service of Matt’s grandmother Grace’s passing, I photographed a wedding, and we attempted to go on vacation. To say the days have flow by is an understatement.
It was at Matt’s grandma’s house that we pulled out some of her family albums which went as far as a few generations back and contained some of the first baby pictures I’ve seen of my husband. Oh – and that dark hair stage he had when he was 12 or 13 (it was crazy, especially if you know him). We took a few pages from the album in order to scan the photos and have copies of our own. A few of my favorites are posted here, a series of polaroids taken of Matt and his grandma on a summer day in all of their glorious imperfection.
To lose someone in the family is never an easy thing. I don’t think that Grace’s life will ever be summed up by the photos that are left behind of her, but they certainly will help everyone remember her life.