I talked about memory on Tuesday in my therapy story — mostly about how I don’t trust mine. That’s probably why I became a photographer and a person obsessed with documenting things. That’s why I love these home videos. I’m constantly searching for truth in them.
This clip shows the last footage of my dad in our home videos: March 4, 1995. The second clip shows the first time my mom recorded us after he died: April 8, 1995. You can hear her say the date out loud, as if exclaiming “We’re still here. 11 days have passed without you and hundreds more are ahead of us.” It breaks my heart every time.
Somewhere in between these two clips, in the blue space between March and April, I crawled underneath a chair next to his hospice bed and chopped my hair off with little scissors. I think this might be one of my first memories, but I don’t know how to tell if it’s real. Maybe it’s just a story. I definitely cut my hair off, but I don’t know who’s perspective I’ve adopted in my memory. Wouldn’t it be cool if there was some sort of litmus test for memories? Brains are weird.
Anyway, I love these videos. They make me cry but it’s good. It’s real and reliable. It’s not going to change depending on who’s narrating it at what time, or how many times I watch it.
#bbdadproject #deaddadsclub #cluboflostdaughters