July 19, 2023-Old Photographs

wingssail images fredrick roswold Judy 

I started a project about two weeks ago which was probably ill advised: I’m going through old photo albums scanning the old photographs. Sounds dumb, huh? Well I had my reasons.

But I say it was ill advised because it is painful. When you are going through an old photo album you keep running into land mines. Like, you turn a page and there is a photo you don’t want to see. I’ve done a lot of crying.

Even though I took almost all the photos, and remember them all, I am still devastated when I turn that page.

Then why am I doing it?

I’d been clearing out stuff I no longer need. It started with Judy’s clothes. I sent three bags full to the mountains where they might do some good, and whoever wears them I won’t see them walking the streets of La Cruz. I couldn’t bear that.

I looked around the boat so see what else could go and decided that the eleven photo albums we’ve had stashed since 2004, when I went digital, could be next; they were bulky and heavy and while Judy loved them I never much looked through them. Oh, I’d fetch the odd photo from time to time, but just sit there and flip pages? Never. But Judy did. She treasured them. So to honor her I decided to scan them and save them in the cloud. I would not throw away her treasured photos.

But while I started that project for a good cause it resulted in a lot of pain.

In the first place it’s too much work. I’ve been going on the project for a couple of weeks and it’s not done yet and that is keeping me from other work which needs to be done, but actually that’s not the problem. The issue is that a lot of my photos are of Judy so on every page of every album there is a photo of Judy with her lovely face and fantastic smile. I remember each shot and I remember the circumstances. Even though many of the photos are just happy snaps and I can scan them and move to the next bunch it keeps happening that “Boom!” there is one which brings back the most painful memories.

I have to treat those images with the special care they deserve. I edit them and save them carefully, making them just right. It takes time to make each of these images perfect and it gives me a lot of time to feel sorry for myself. At this point in my grieving process I am mostly feeling sorry for myself. This photo scanning project is just feeding that grieving.

Did I mention that Judy left me notes? She has been through these albums before me and she has labeled many of the photos. There are hundreds of photos and next to many of them there are small printed labels. Sometime, I don’t know when, she typed them into the computer and printed them. Then she put each label on the right photo. I didn’t know she was doing that. When did she have the time? And on the occasional photo which was not yet labeled, on the back she had written a note on a yellow sticky. I flip them over and there is her handwriting telling me what it is. These notes are for me. I never expected that, it devastates me.

What really keeps hitting me is that I most of these shots are meaningless to anyone else on the whole frigging planet. Why am I saving them? For whom? All I want to do is say, “Look honey, do you remember this?” To whom do I say that too?

But it’s like that Brandi Carlile song I keep quoting, “Each line across my face tells a story of where I’ve been… but what good is a story if you’ve got no-one to tell it too?” At his point, from 1998 when we went cruising across the seas until now I have about 250 photos of Judy. They tell a story of who she was but what good is a story if you’ve got no-one to tell it too? Maybe I should tell it to you. Someday I will.

But what is worse is that these images show her “aliveness”. In these images I see her alive every day for all those years, then, in one instant that life is gone. It is beyond comprehension.

But that is life, isn’t it? We are all created in a moment of joining, some DNA comes together and a new life is created. Then we live and later we die. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. In Judy’s case it was a bit more than 72 years. Too short to my way of thinking. And she is gone, and whatever it was which was inside of her head, behind that glorious smile all those years, we can only guess, I didn’t ask her often enough, but I know it was joyous, loving, and generous because that is who she was. Whatever, it is gone now and I have only my memories, photos, and tears.

I’ve got good memories, and plenty of tears, and I will keep the photos, so my work will continue.

Maybe that will be enough.

It has to be enough because there is no more.

Good bye Judy, we love you.

Click here for photos of Judy

Click here for more photos of Judy

Fred Roswold, SV Wings, Mexico