precious and few

My two favorite pictures of the entire season. That joy, pride, admiration, and, yes, relief, that we all felt after the last regular season win, is more than just evident in these pictures. It's palpable. The game ended, and Jon walked toward us with tears in his eyes and his face all screwed up with the effort of not crying out loud, and hugged me, holding me tight and swaying while my heart exploded with a mixture of pride for him, his teammates, and his coaches, and relief that he made it through the regular season injury-free, though he played hard. As he hugged me, I had so many thoughts going through my head, but there were no words for the moment. There really aren't in moments like this. He released me and turned to Guy. Like all the post-game pictures I take, I snapped the picture without even looking at the viewfinder, hoping against hope that I would even capture them in the frame. I'm not one for taking posed pictures; my preference is taking pictures that capture something. When I opened this picture of Guy and Jon, my heart skipped a beat. What I saw was my husband and our firstborn son in a moment that said everything (I thought) that could ever be said about the final steps in a journey from a 1-9 season to a 6-4 season. Everything that could possibly be said about looking forward to playoffs, while keeping in mind the first steps our son ever took. What else could express the joy and awe at turning, now, toward the post-season, and a first playoff game on the team's home field? Then I opened this other picture...

 

As brothers, Henry and Jon have had their inseparable moments. Football, however, has been Jon's thing. Henry went to most of the games, and cheered on his brother and, of course, his other friends on the team. But after that win--the one that so many said wouldn't happen--the first thing Henry wanted to do was hug his brother. This is one of those moments I feel blessed to have captured!! Happy, proud, joyful, excited--any emotion possible is displayed in Henry's face, and I'm left with the memory of how long they stood that way--long enough for me to get two shots, and to stand in awe of that mystery to me of Brother Love.

And after my heart started beating normally, and I could settle in and focus on downloading the photos into the appropriate file folders on the computer, it hit me. I'm not in any such pictures. And I doubt that I ever will be. I know there is a chance, because I do have one picture of Dad giving me one of my favorite one-armed hugs, from my high school graduation. He loved those unposed, unplanned, one-of-a-kind snapshots, too, so I have lots and lots of them--without him.

When Jon's kids look back at these pictures, how will they see the absence of my face, my emotions? How will he? Will he remember the hug that I gave him, too, or will it be lost without 'proof'? As I got older, I began taking pictures of Dad when he wasn't looking, but those moments didn't include me. When I think about them, or see pictures of amazing moments, I do still feel that arm of his over my shoulder. Will Jon? Will any of my boys? I hope so.

In the meantime, I will gaze at these two pictures and be warmed by the tide of memories from the whole season that wash over me. From a whole lifetime.