Screen porch of memories

2.18.13:
I stumbled upon my childhood last week when spotting this screen porch during a walk.  In this are the summer evenings of my parents and neighbors gathering with their lawn chairs around a citronella candle while I ran around catching fireflies with my little brother and friends.  I had a rocking horse just like this one, and we swore its springs would neigh at us as we bounced it to its limits.  Screens on our doors and windows would hold raindrops or the water my grandfather used to wash their dirt away.  I loved running my fingers across the wetness creating shapes and trails.  

Being away from my birthplace, my family and the familiar, missing my dear father who passed away in August of 2011 more than usual lately, I really welcome these reminders and heart comforts.  I think that we're more open to these gifts just when we need them most.  

In that melancholy

We've had a couple afternoons of downpours and storms.  I've always liked rain, the smells and sounds it brings, and the colors and feelings it turns on.  I could have stood at this window pane and watched it endlessly filter my look into our very green and earthy backyard.  Lately, though, I have to get myself out of the trance because the melancholy it brings overwhelms me.  I am drenched in memories of my father. Flashes of him sick with cancer in his final days battle the surfacing of something else, maybe good memories, the loving times when he was in good health.   In time, in time I'm told that things will become less sharp.

I find myself turning to the rain again.  In that melancholy the soothing will come.  Somehow.

Thank you cards

I made these cards a few weeks back to send out to family and friends who have been so supportive.  These photos were just waiting to be mounted on the Strathmore card sets that I've had for years.  I love the way they all look together, and feel good about sharing them in appreciation.  Finally, today, I sent out my first one. 

 

Goodbye, sweet Daddy

John Bognar
August 29, 1938 - August 27, 2011


9.20.11, 1:05 AM:
I've been delaying posting in this blog that my father passed away. It's not as if not writing has made it any better in the healing. Even though every time I share it hurts, not sharing has hung with me like a weight. Finally, I need to write.

It was horrible getting the phone call from my mother in the early hours that Saturday, all I could do was weep and hold my heart. Later that day is when I had my wailing session once my husband took my daughters out of the house. I felt like my shouts were connecting to something bigger in this world, to the shared loss endless people were experiencing at that given moment. I remember grabbing a notebook to write a prayer or mantra of sorts as I dropped myself into a chair. The words sit in an evolving box of memoirs, but these are the ones that run through me and hopefully into the space of goodness:


"Sweet, Daddy spirit, set yourself free of your pain and become part of everything beautiful in this world."


I imagined that magnificent show of clouds that I had seen during one of my return flights from my parents on June 27. The view was stunning, and left me, along with my fellow window seat neighbors, in a complete state of awe. I shared my amazement with my parents upon my return, and made a print of this image for my father to see for his birthday. The print was en route as my mother shared the news, and it broke my heart that I didn't get it there in time. I have to hold onto the hope that my excitement and the words about the scene gave him a sense of the greatness and wonder. In my heart and mind, this is the beauty he is now with, and in that is reassurance and healing. It is the tribute to my father's love.

Together

Holding hands with my father during a solo visit home. 

Immeasurable

This picture was taken 43 years ago when I was around 2 years old.  I was the prototype "Daddy's girl" always wanting to be with him wherever he went.  On that given trek he jumped into a photo booth with me, and the image became quite a treasure over the years.  I found it unexpectedly this past week safely tucked away in a drawer of candles.  I took some pictures of it to send him, then set it on a window pane which holds other special things.  It was such a sweet surprise, and the timing of finding it is beyond coincidental.  Little did I know that I'd be on a plane a couple days later traveling home to be with him and my mom.

I don't think I've shared the story yet, but he's the one who gave me my first 'real' camera when I was in the 7th grade.  It was a Fujica SLR, and it set me on my way photographing life.  Years later he upgraded it to a Minolta, which was stolen, unfortunately.  And somewhere during that stretch of time my parents surprised me with an enlarger.  I still remember climbing up the attic ladder to find it.  Needless to say, my parents have encouraged my love of photography for many years, and I'm forever grateful.

I love you, Daddy.

First Photo

8.31.11:
Found it!! Here is what I believe is the first 'published' photo taken by me. While looking through a family photo album for photos of my father, this one jumped out at me. My mom says that we were in Dunellen, NJ, on a little outing. It was 1970, so I was just about 4 years old and my brother, 2. She doesn't remember if it was my father requesting the photo, or me asking to use his camera. Either way, he handed it off to me trusting my little hands. Thank you, Daddy.