The family stood in front of the front drapes at Mom and Dad’s for a Christmas picture, not something I recalled ever doing. It must have been because Dee and Jeannie and I had traveled to Jefferson from far places. We returned this time with two husbands, Jon and Jim; and a boyfriend, Mike; a grandchild, Jimmy; We were adults, home together for the holiday for the first time in years.
The picture is all I remember of the day, and that I remember it at all may be only because I’ve looked at the photo for half a century. We stand smiling slightly, I in a dark green dress, my sisters and mom in light pink, deep pink and red – we were Christmasy. Those young men in sweaters, Dad in a red and white lumberman’s shirt; the one-year-old in the middle of us wore a tan suit, white shirt and a very small fedora, purchased the week before by his Grampa for a tour around the square to be shown off.
This is the last Christmas I recall us all being together. We were far flung and busy in our new lives, another wedding, the begetting of more kids.
Then, Dad died.
Mom died.
Jeannie died.
Jim died.
There would never be a full family again.
Sometimes, when I look at the photo, it is with longing, sometimes with idle curiosity – what were we all thinking? – sometimes with happiness in the day.
It is history, unrepeatable, however much I wish otherwise.
~Colleen O’Brien Clopton, Jefferson , Iowa
