Plastic Pretenders

There is something about the change of seasons that makes me long for Dad. I don't really understand it. The chill in the air strikes the grief match aflame, and I return to heartache. Today I was looking at old pictures...lots of old pictures. It can be a dangerous activity. Pictures tell a story.

As I scanned these treasures, I was struck by a sense of reflective awe. Smiling beautiful faces in wonderful locations looking back at me. It was like reading an old movie star magazine, with snapshot after snapshot of a happy couple and family. In an instant I was struck by how often there is a profound disparity between the glossy sheen of external perfection and the hollow discontent that often flies below the surface. (Maybe it's why I love the show "Mad Men" so much.) This family of mine sure appeared to have it all, but underneath there were secrets that told a different tale.

I was recently asked a question that provoked a strong reaction: "Describe your parents marriage in three words." If you're ever looking for a way to spark deeper conversation with someone, I dare you to pose this. As I tried to frame a response, I was hit with a wave of grief so hard I had to excuse myself. Grief for the death of a family; grief for the death of Dad; grief for the death of all those left-over kid dreams that apparently still reside within the soul.

As I continued the photo exploration, I found myself looking for a picture that would show me a more authentic tone of the era. I was tired of all the plastic pretenders, even frustrated by the charade of it all. I determined that there must be a picture in this box of memories that told a different story. And there it was.

Here was a moment of authenticity captured on film. It felt comforting to see this picture, despite the tenseness of expressions. It made me miss Dad all over again. Oh for a chance to sit and talk with him about the struggles of the era. To throw away the surface sheen and cultivate candor.

This is what I'd say.

"Dad, tell me about this day. Tell me about the struggles. Tell me what you learned. For you've gone before me, and I can be a better man through your life lessons."

I've put the pictures away for another day.