Before our big reunion began, I decided to go through old albums and pull out Nathan, Neibaur, and Nichols photos that I could slip quickly into another album to pass around. Not my typical style, usually I love making pretty albums. But I was in a hurry because it was a last minute plan. And a single, edited book was much better than stacks and stacks of books filled miscellaneous photos the guests wouldn’t be familiar with, like the kids’ old friends or our neighbors of the past.
I came across this oldie from our home in Arkansas. I don’t know the occasion, or who took it, but I felt it like a jab in the heart. It’s not a good photo, but it is a great picture. Adam is a blur because like his daughter, he is in constant motion. Ryan is wearing his tee shirt from his army man Halloween costume and has the “Footloose” haircut that he always insisted on. I have on a matching tee and shorts that my mom sewed for me, the wallpaper behind us was some my sister helped hang in this very first house we ever bought.
So many memories in one snapshot.
And so much love, too.
I love this photo and will never tuck it away in the dark again, this one goes on display. But it also started the reunion on a shaky note for me. The people coming to visit were all favorites of Ryan, he enjoyed hanging out with this group, and I sure felt his absence when I was with them.
Also, Ry died at 42, and was my good buddy, we had such fun together. But this picture reminded me- he was my baby. My little guy. The majority of my grief is about daily things I miss about my grown up son and best friend. When it hits me that I lost my baby, it’s a death blow to my heart, so I don’t dwell on that aspect of it.
When people started arriving to the party, my sister-in-law wanted to sit with me in Ryan’s apartment and reminisce about him. I have to admit, that was the highlight of the week for me. It means so much when people honor my Ry that way.
He is not forgotten.
