Leaving and Waving
deannadikeman.com
deannadikeman.com
I was never really close with my mother. We would eat dinner in separate rooms. We grew more and more distant throughout my teen years and when I was 20 I decided to disown her and we're now estranged.
There were multiple attempts to "get back" but none were successful. I think what I realised in the end was that she was too much of a free spirit. She wanted to have her separate life and have me co-exist in it, without dedicating herself to me like a parent normally would.
I don't think I'll miss them or feeling anything for them when they pass. My mother, maybe a little. My father, not at all. But I don't forsee being at her death bed, even if she told me she was dying. Maybe I'm just stubborn or am held captive by a matter of "principle and integrity". If a relationship is cut off, then it's cut off. Meaning you both have to deal with the good and the bad. I've decided there's more good than bad.
In some senses it feels like I never had parents at all. Like there's nothing to miss, because how can one miss an absence?
I hope though to be the parent I never had to my daughter. Unfortunately my partner has stage 4 cancer so won't be around for most of my daughter's life at a very young age, but that's okay. This is life and life is me.
through the darkness, every cry through every scream, for all the pain you‘ve taken— and not given me.
I feel like an orphan now. I have a couple siblings but we're distant.
This statement has the same tone when you replace "politics" with adultery or racism.
Political beliefs represent the person and what they value. Some beliefs can't be overlooked and are not compatible with the relationship.
If we distanced ourselves from everyone who made a mistake or who believed something different than we believe, we would have no relationships at all.
If your dad can’t agree to be apolitical when you spend time together then it’s his choice to be estranged from you. But maybe he can, and maybe you guys can find a connection again.
I speak from personal experience here. I hope you’re able to find some reconciliation.
Some, but not all, people sucked into the Fox News vortex literally have nothing else to talk about. Their entire life is Fox News, they will only talk about the topic du jour they saw on the screen that day. It becomes tiring to try to connect with someone who only wants to connect with you about hating the imagined scapegoat of the day.
It’s definitely not solely a Fox News thing, I’ve experienced people who will only think about the daily discourse on Twitter or are only interested in whatever twitch streamer got “owned” by whichever other streamer. It is draining dealing with people like this, especially when their entire world view is fed by misinformation.
Projecting emotions onto others' family members is presumptuous and unhelpful.
> I speak from personal experience here.
As an implicit baseline, this does nothing to strengthen your position. Highlighting personal experience only underscores how subjective and situation-dependent this advice is.
Been there. I wish you all the strength to make the right choices for your daughters sake <3
I love the story these photographs tell. I’m an avid archiver of our family’s photos.
The other thing I did was to interview my parents 20 years ago to document their life experience in one go from their perspective (separately, because they are different).
Maybe not everyone is a nostalgic, but for those of us who are - I encourage doing these things now. It’s never to late to start and they might bring comfort both today and when you wave your last goodbye.
Is not just for nostalgia. I would've loved if my parents recorded even just a few minutes of their grandparents or great-grandparents to pass them to my children.
promise to bring back something nice
I also am the avid family photo archiver (I scan them, tag them, release them).
The oldest photo I have is a tintype of a young girl around 1882 or so. She is maybe two years old — and is my great grandmother.
I never met her, she had died before I was born. But I have studied her in the photos going all the way back to that tintype of her — somewhere in Missouri. Photos show her with her sisters and parents not long before they died, working in the fields, married to my great grandfather, with her children. Her children become adults and at some point it is clear that the daughter's role has reversed and she is taking care of mom. Great grandmother is soon old and so frail looking. And then there is a photo of the headstone for her.
It has been a little sobering, as "photo historian" for the family, seeing the arc of lives lived and now gone.
I grouped photos by general time range and bulk added date/time and location information - knowing it wouldn’t be perfect.
It wasn’t terrible and I got a couple hundred photos scanned in a weekend.
Highly recommend this or another method.
I have a EPSON flatbed scanner and use Apple's Image Capture to scan them in.
Smaller photos (3 x 5 or smaller) I scan at 600 DPI, larger (5 x 7 or larger) maybe 450 DPI or so. I'm trying to capture enough detail that I could reprint them, perhaps even larger than the original, and not have reached the pixel level.
I pull the scans into Apple's Photos and immediately tag them all with "Family Photos" keyword or similar to make finding them easier later.
Then it's adding keywords for who is in the photo (if I know). If anything was written on the front or back I type those in the Description. If I know the date I change the date of the photo. If I don't know the date at all I also keyword the photo "Wrong Date".
If I know the year I set the date to "1/1/YEAR". If I know the month and year (some Polaroids would print this on the border of the photo) I set the date to "MONTH/1/YEAR".
Sometimes the photo was labeled as someone's birthday or on Christmas so I can get the day as well.
Finally, I also edit the photos — adjust levels, remove scratches, etc. Again in Photos. I tend to only spend significant time on the important photos, or ones I like.
But as you said, daunting. Nonetheless, I can export the photos and send them around to family, post to Ancestry.com, etc. And all the metadata is retained on export.
I have retouched many photos such that I was able to print them and have a photo that was better than the surviving print (possibly even a touch better than the print when it was new).
It has been worth it for me. I have observed the changes in consumer camera quality, figured out who people are who were strangers to me before (I can recognize many now when I come across a photo I had not before seen).
A family photo I restored, my great grandmother is top-right (probably end of the 19th Century):
https://images.findagrave.com/photos/2020/137/22136538_9c3c4...
And her again, in a tintype from about 1880 (sadly someone seems to have folded it in half in the 144 years since):
https://images.findagrave.com/photos/2019/113/19923761_08885...
I would have done that with my other grandma, but we grew apart and then dementia destroyed what was left of her. I will likely digitalize her photo collection when she is moved to a retirement home.
As others have said, you should also get their stories on camera on as a recording, if possible. There will come a time where this is no longer possible.
One of the things I knew about my father was that he was avid stamp collector. He called me last year and told me it was time for him to give up his collection as his eyes were getting worse and he didn't have the concentration to catalog his stuff any more.
I came over on a Fall Sunday afternoon last year. He sat down with them and told a very long story about how he got into stamp collecting and about ten minutes in I realized this was something incredible. I had was about to get a rather long, involved history of his family which I never had known before. I took out my phone and turned on the live transcribe. We took several breaks going through his collection and some other stuff like coins he inherited from my grandfather on my Mom's side.
It was completely insane the story he told. His great grandfather was forced into the German military during world war one. He hopped off the troop train at the first stop and fled into the forest. He made his way to the coast where he jumped a steamship bound for the US. He was terrified the Germans were still after him so he continued West after landing in New York until he reached Minnesota. That was just the beginning of the story, but I am eternally grateful for being able to hear him tell so many crazy stories about his life and his family that I never knew. I've saved that transcription and will be sharing it with the rest of my family this Christmas.
I had the same reaction, all this stuff was just incredible that I never knew and had the very same feeling that there was so much I learned in those stories he told, so I am eternally grateful he shared that with me. For me, it was absolutely priceless. My wife has told me multiple times how fortunate I am I took the time to go see him and those stories were not on the list of things I expected to happen.
I’m sure where that story came from, there will be many more.
I’d recommend recording the audio instead of doing live transcription. You can always transcribe it later. Any transcription you run five years from now is probably going to be way more accurate than anything you can run on your phone today. Plus, this way, you also preserve his voice and any nuances.
Again, thank you for this recommendation.
>It turns out that when I graduated from high school, I had already used up 93% of my in-person parent time. I’m now enjoying the last 5% of that time. We’re in the tail end.
I wish I'd spent more quality time with mine while I could. I feel like I didn't start really talking to my dad until the last few years of his life. I didn't realise how much I had to ask them both until they were gone.
Absolutely! My parents were never always that healthy but would love a long walk and meander. I had a period where I didn't go home for a few years and when I finally saw them again it was shocking how much they'd declined. A couple more years since and now they can barely walk more than 10 meters without stopping in pain. Now it's so bad we can't even walk to a corner shop nearby. When I think back that only a few years ago I could've gone on a long walk through London with my father, it stings. Now it's a case of "what next" with their health.
Of course it seems like you have to learn this lesson "for real" for it to sink in, which is the sad bit about life...
It is also one of the reasons why I no longer take jobs without remote option across Europe, not only the country where the company is located (naturally as long as I can afford to be picky).
All the best.
As you are now, so once was I
As I am now, soon you may be
Prepare for death and follow me
Don't hesitate to do the things today which will otherwise become regrets tomorrow.
For me, there's nothing scary or sad about growing old and then dying. It's natural, it's beautiful, it's just great the way it is.
That's sad, and being sad is natural too.
I could relate to it though there are no photographs, but the memories and the moment are frozen forever! Some can never be replaced or compared against!
Thanks for sharing and bringing a tear drop around the corner of my eyes!
Have a beautiful day!
Love from India!
Well, It really doesn't matter where you are and I'm pretty sure you ain't one data center rat! :D
All that matters is how you chop onions and whether you chop it or not!
Fun apart, on a serious note, it did brought tears down the cheek.
And I'm not alone as I could see from many other comments and fellow hackers...
Love from India!
I had seen these photos before and saw them return to reddit during the past few days. Couldn't click on them until now, because I was afraid of the emotions they would surface.
Impressive work.
All we have are snatches, glimpses, a rotoscope of moments. Then it’s gone. All of it.
Capture those waves, smiles and frowns. Cherish the light and the shadow while it’s possible because all that remains after is the long dark.
Sometimes the move goes the other way. I have friends and extended family whose parents moved to be closer to them.
Thanks for sharing.
"You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone"
The missing punchline turned out to be much harder to swallow than anything author could probably come up with. The whole thing turned out to be the typical in academic circles foreword to "selected works", where the author desperately tries to mention every even marginally useful person in a vain hope that by stroking their ego, they'd increase their "impact factor".
One of the points in that book that came out as bizarre was when the author sought love advice from his parents... at the young age of thirty-something years old. The reliance on the parents, while doesn't play the key role, is still prominently featured throughout this self-styled epitaph.
* * *
I've only ever gotten to know one of my grandparents. My grandmother passed away when I was twelve. I have zero photographs of her. Nothing's left in the family to remind me of her. I don't know if my mother is alive. The last time we spoke I was sixteen. I have no idea if she still lives where she used to live when I left. And I have no interest in discovering what if anything's left of her. My parents split up when I was seven. Despite being a spiteful and abusive evil piece of shit who couldn't hold a job and had no means to sustain herself, let alone two children, my mom got full custody by the time it came to the family court. So, I grew without a father. I got briefly to know him by the time I was in high-school, but then I left to a different country.
Today we don't speak the same language, live worlds apart, and there are front-lines of a very hot and bloody war between us. I don't come to visit, and don't expect to be able to come to my dad's funeral.
People waxing emotional over having living parents who took part in their lives, who had something to contribute... kind of turn my stomach upside-down. They have no idea how good they have it, and yet they present their quite happy and fulfilling life as some kind of world-ending tragedy.
Just because you have been damaged emotionally, does not invalidate other people's emotions. They are quite possibly feeling the lowest lows of their lives -- even if that low is a mountain pass versus your death valley. They still deserve respect in grief, even if overall they have had a wonderful life.
Someone with living and attentive parents, who lived in good health to their nineties, lived in their own home, in a well-to-do country, where their child came to visit them, in their own car, in good weather, etc... what more did they expect to happen? This is the best outcome by far they could expect from life. They've won the lottery, what more do they want?
No. You completely misunderstood my point. I'm not "emotionally damaged". Overwhelming majority of people on planet Earth don't have it anywhere near as good as the people in OP or a bunch of people commenting here about their quite alive and quite well-to-do families. With all that happened to me, I'm still among the few percents who has it relatively well. Vastly more people in this world will have it worse than I have.
The entitlement of people crying about how bad they have it, when they are among the fraction of a percent of those who have it the best it can possibly be is what's so disgusting.
What's wrong with that? Because these folks experienced the "best outcome" (presumably to see their parents live to old age) they shouldn't get emotional about it?
The top-level response in question is disgusting. It's like listening to someone who won a million dollars in a lottery complain that they didn't win ten millions. Should I really feel compassionate towards a "victim" of such a bad luck of only winning a single million? Even if the "victim" genuinely feels bad about themselves?
you're characterizing them as ungrateful, which isn't really coming across for me at all.
That's a straight-up lie. Read the comments here. People declaring themselves miserable are asking for compassion.
> People waxing emotional over having living parents who took part in their lives, who had something to contribute... kind of turn my stomach upside-down. They have no idea how good they have it, and yet they present their quite happy and fulfilling life as some kind of world-ending tragedy.
Good fortune can open oneself up to greater heartbreak, and misfortune can do the worse. Likewise, the opposite can happen: fortune can blind the fortunate, and enable happiness when the unfortunate overcome.
It goes all ways and directions. But for whatever hardship you have, you missed out on other sorts of hardship. And whatever hardships you dealt with, the author of any memoir may have missed those obstacles. Be at peace! And don't expect anyone to walk the same path as you.
I'm sorry you missed out on these experiences, but that doesn't mean that the normal experience of being a human - that is your parents living into your own adulthood - ought to be taboo.
Whatever your fortune or misfortune opens you to is only relevant if you are under... maybe twelve years old. As a grownup, you are expected to be able to put things into perspective and realize that complaining about a pea under twenty mattresses doesn't really make you into a princess.
> the normal experience of being a human - that is your parents living into your own adulthood
However common this is, it's not the point. The point is that people in this thread complain about the best outcome that is possible in this situation. These people complain about winning the lottery for crying out loud. How much more entitled can you get?
Yes, we recognize that having loving parents is an immeasurable blessing. While their passing is not a world-ending tragedy, it is precisely because we know how precious that interaction is, that we mourn their passing - and encourage others who have it to treasure it.
But there are other precious relationships and interactions that we can establish, build, and treasure.
I live in the world where about half the inhabitants don't eat meat out of "moral concerns" absolutely ignoring the grim reality of most of the world that will eat whatever food they have, and a lot of the time would have none.
People who protest about political causes in lands and cultures they don't understand because a propaganda ad featuring a bruised child in a pile of rubble made them feel sad.
People throwing themselves at the police at another pointless protest rally, only to be greeted at the police station by a mug of hot chocolate and be dispatched home to sleep in their soft and cozy beds.
There's nothing deep or special in this "loss". It make sense to mourn the loss of a life of a young man committing suicide because he was abandoned by the world around him. And I've seen that. It makes sense to mourn the loss of life of a young woman who got hooked up on heroin and died of overdose after an attempted recovery--and I've seen that too. It makes sense to regret the loss of young child's life, whose entire family was killed by poorly planned and poorly executed missile attack. Because such loss of life was avoidable, it took something that had a potential and squandered it. Old people dying of old age is nothing like any of the above. It's what's supposed to happen. It's how I want to go. It's how I want for everyone I care about to go.
I've spent enough time with ER to develop strong feeling of disgust for people who start crying "oh but my mom, she was only ninety-three!" and then latching onto the doctor's sleeves preventing them from tending to other patients. These also tend to show in large family groups and block the entire department for hours by driving attention to themselves with loud wining, arguing with the medical staff and other people in the ER. Demanding unlimited attention due to their "devastating loss". Demanding that the medical staff instantly produce all sorts of forms, perform all kinds of unnecessary procedures, basically, only to drive attention to themselves.
There’s no fairness to the audience you’ll have. Or they will have. Some people will experience a pebble in their shoe, tell the harrowing story, and people will hail them for the courage that they are showing. The openess. The hard-earned wisdom. And there’s nothing anything can do about that.