Home movies

Home movies are fun to watch, right?  We spent some time on Father's Day watching some old movies of my parents wedding, their life before kids, baby movies of myself and my sister, skiing footage, etc.  One movie unveiled an eerie resemblance between my 8-year old self and my son as well as between my sister and her 2-year old.  The movies started out as 8 mm reel films that my sister and I spent way too much money transferring to DVD last year as a gift to my parents - but it was well worth it. 

The thing about those movies is that they were silent - there is no sound so you have to imagine what the people are saying.  I'd love to get a lip-reader to watch some of the clips and tell me what my mom is saying, especially in her wedding video where she is chattering up a storm.  Sometimes the facial expressions say it all - you may not know what the person is saying, but you sure know what kind of a comment is being made by the look of annoyance - maybe something like "Get that camera out of my face already!"

Sound changes everything and in some cases makes the videos more difficult to watch.  Last night we ended up watching videos (with sound) of my kids when they were 6 and 3.  In this case sound made the experience utterly delightful.  My daughter Ella's voice at 2 1/2 was so precious - like a tiny little bird just starting to put her words together.  We laughed and smiled as we watched Jack swimming in his first lollipop swim meet and Ella dancing in the bay window to Berlin's "Denis Denis", wearing a little sundress she always insisted on wearing for her window dancing shows.

Then my Dad started popping up in the videos and things began to change.  Keep in mind that these movies were made back in 2007, a good three years before he was diagnosed with ALS.  I find myself feeling nostalgic for those days, a time when ALS was something that happened to other people and everyone in our family was blissfully healthy and unaware of what lay ahead.   At first the videos were not hard to watch.  A glimpse here, a brief appearance there, nothing too emotionally challenging to watch.

Then I found myself watching a clip of my Dad playing his guitar (something he can no longer do), singing Old McDonald Had a Farm with a 3-year old Ella during Thanksgiving at my parents house.  He would strum and sing "And on that farm he had a . . . " at which point Ella would gleefully chime in with the name of an animal in her sweet little toddler voice - "Pig!"  Kind of difficult to watch, given that in addition to not being able to play the guitar anymore my Dad also cannot sing anymore, something he used to do with unbridled enthusiasm.   Still, I found myself appreciating the fact that I had recorded this moment and still have a way to hear my Dad's voice. 

Everything changed when we got to the part in the video when my Dad stood up at the Thanksgiving table to give his customary prayer and blessing before the meal.  There were a lot of people at the table that year since my husband's cousins from Florida had decided to join us, as well as my sister's in-laws and various other relatives who live in our area.  The table extended from the dining room all the way into the living room, our longest Thanksgiving table yet. 

He started to speak and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes.  How long had it been since I'd heard him sound like that?  I can't even remember, that's how gradual and significant the changes have been in the past few years.  He spoke about being thankful for the health of everyone in the family and how happy he was to see the family growing and growing every year.  By the time the speech ended with his typical "Ok, let's dig in!"  I could barely see.  I ended up stopping the video and telling the kids to go get ready for bed and when they left the room, I let myself completely lose it.

Sometimes you have to just give in and lose it a little.  It really does make you feel better, in some strange way.  I tend to hold it all in sometimes and I fool myself into thinking that everything is ok.  But it's not.  Things are not ok and they won't be ok for a while.  I take comfort in my kids and my husband and the fact that my family is so close.  I take comfort in the fact that I've had my Dad for over 40 years now and that he's been able to experience all the major milestones of my life and of my sister's life as well.  I take comfort in being able to make my Dad smile, even on his worst days.  I take comfort in my mother and my sister and in knowing that no matter what happens and how this will all play out, we will eventually all be ok. 

I think this is the first time I've really opened up on this blog and it feels pretty good.  I'm not very good at talking about my feelings, so maybe this is a way for me to do that.  I feel better already.