A Box of Photos and a Life Well-Lived

One of the tasks I decided to tackle during my “retirement” was going through all our printed photos. We have tons of them—stuffed in bags, wrapped in packing paper, and tossed haphazardly into boxes. They’ve been this way ever since the house fire, when the crew packed up our belongings and stored everything away. The photos have been sitting in those boxes, untouched, for years.

In 2010, my husband and I attended a family rehab session at La Paloma in Memphis. One suggestion for parents struggling with detachment was to put away all photos of their child. The idea was that seeing your child only as the bouncing baby or little kid they once were makes it harder to accept who they are now. With that in mind, I packed up all our photos and tucked them away in the closet. There they sat… for years.

Four or five years ago, I tried again. I pulled out a box and flipped through a few pictures before the tears started. By then, I had lost my brother. And along with that loss, I had also said goodbye to so many of the dreams I had for my daughter. All I could see in those pictures was grief—everything I had lost. I couldn’t recognize the joy that once filled those moments. I packed the boxes back up and put them away again.

Then in 2022, we had a house fire. The restoration company packed everything up, labeled the boxes, and stored them. When we decided not to return to the same house and moved to our property in Greenville, they simply delivered the boxes. No unpacking. No sorting. Just a delivery of memories in cardboard containers.

Knowing that someday I would want to go through the pictures, I made sure those particular boxes came with us to our “city” place. Most of our other belongings went into a non-climate-controlled storage container on the property, but not the photos. I wanted to protect them. They’ve been sitting in the spare bedroom ever since.

Fast forward to 2025—my “retirement” begins, and I finally decide to tackle the photo project. Nervous and full of trepidation, I opened the first box. I pulled out a random packet of pictures and began flipping through them.

And then… I couldn’t stop.

I couldn’t believe what an amazing life we had lived. We looked so young. So happy. There were pictures from vacations, from motorcycle races, from my daughter’s school events. Pictures of our pets. And yes, so many photos of my brother. And do you know what I saw in those photos?

A life well-lived.

Despite all the losses… despite the unexpected twists and turns… I have done so much. I’ve had adventures. I’ve made memories. I’ve been surrounded by laughter, silliness, love, and connection. I was blessed to have my brother for 43 years. He made everything fun. His go-to quote was always: “All you can do is laugh.”

And he was right.

I was lucky to have a daughter who, as a kid, was both beautiful and goofy. Life has changed, yes. But those changes don’t erase what once was.

It will take me a while to get through all our old photos. But now, I’m not dreading it—I’m eagerly looking forward to the journey.

Because those boxes aren’t just full of paper and ink.
They’re full of proof.
That we lived. That we laughed. That we loved.

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Have you ever revisited old photos after a hard season? I’d love to hear how it made you feel—drop a comment below.

Here are a few of my favorite pics: