The most wonderful gift was delivered to my doorstep on Christmas Eve – a box of family photographs spanning more than 60 years from my deceased aunt’s vast collection.

Christmas Eve dinner was put on hold as I took a quick journey through my past and my family’s days of yore. Sorting through the tiny black and white images and fading color Polaroids, I was struck by the bittersweet ‘back’ stories of these pictures: the shadowed truth and reality not evident in the bright eyes and the warm smiles of the people in the pictures.

There were pictures of Christmas Eve 1969, unwrapping presents with my cousins around their tinsel-draped tree and entertaining the grownups with Christmas carols. That Christmas, the best gift I received was my family together again after a painful separation between my parents.

I didn’t know then that this would be the last Christmas gathering for our big
family or that a few months later, I would have to say goodbye to my inseparable cousin, my first best friend. My parents needed to mend their broken marriage and moved our family from Chicago to El Paso, TX, for a fresh start.

My parents eventually divorced after more than 20 years of marriage and six  children. Their love just wasn’t strong enough to overcome their differences and their troubled past. With few memories of my parents as a happy couple, I cherish lifting and gazing upon a photo taken of them in a park against a backdrop of flowers. They were courting, their arms around each other, looking at the world through the eyes of love.

I am so grateful for these family photographs and the back stories of my life that come flashing forward when I look at them, even the not-so-happy ones. They remind me that the bond of love between my husband and me is the best gift that we could have ever given each other, and our children.