Pictures of Happiness

Mom was having a good day. Some days she knew I was her daughter, and other days, she believed I was a hired caregiver.

As we looked through a family photo album that afternoon, she studied each picture. “Oh, look, there’s Kelly,” she said, pointing to a photo.

“Yes, that’s right,” I encouraged her.

She smiled. “That was a fun time.”

It had been four months since my brother and his family had been for a visit. I could still hear the excited voices of his grandchildren as yet another bag hit its mark in a friendly game of cornhole. These were the last pictures taken with Mom participating in family life.

Her days of lucidity were becoming farther apart, so I cherished the moments when she still knew who we were. It was special when she remembered what it was like to be a part of a family.

I turned the pages in the album. I was so excited she was able to pick out a picture of my sister, Kay, too.

“Remember how Kay took us all for ice cream that day?” I asked Mom.

“I do remember that!” she said.

Yes, this was a very good day.