Scrolling through photos on my phone…

I’ve taken a colorful array the last two years. Beautiful pictures. Scrolling through them fast, it looks like a full and happy life. I am pleased. But as I slow down and look at them, the expected stirring of emotions doesn’t happen. 

The photos look like a fun time. Or a peaceful time. They’re really beautiful. 

But the emotions they trigger don’t match the photographs. They trigger what I was feeling when the photo was taken: pain. 

About each one, I think “That was me at two months,” That was me at six months,” “That was my first Christmas without him.” 

There I am. My mask is smiling.