Did I ever tell you that I made a video of pictures of my parents for their 50th party? I'm no artist when it comes to that sort of thing, but I thought I kicked a** with this project. Perhaps I even shared it with you; I don't remember. For anyone who didn't know my parents well, it wouldn't have meant much.
Months before the party, I had asked my dad to send me some pictures of their lives together. In response, he sent me over four thousand pictures on discs that he had scanned and downloaded from albums my mother and grandmother had kept meticulously for generations. It took me forever to go through them all and I was a little peeved that he couldn't have just sent me fifty choice picks and saved me the time. He is retired, for Pete's sake.
As you can imagine, the sorting was a journey through time that not only turned my heart but ended up being an invaluable piece in creating what I wanted to present as my own, personal tribute to my mom and dad.
As I played around on my brand new Mac (at the time), taking classes and reading online tutorials back to back late into the night to learn what I was doing, I chose music that represented the life I imagined they had led for fifty years together. After all, I hadn't been there since the beginning. Much of this would be the love story I made up in my head. I went from Micheal Buble to Meatloaf and back again, obsessed with creating something by which my parents would be touched, of which my grandmother would have been proud.
I read somewhere that music videos need to be limited to less than seven minutes. Audiences lose interest when they head towards eight. I had 4,000 + memories; how was I supposed to reduce that to seven minutes? Seriously, I put days into this. Nights, even. This was the sort of thing that Bro J would normally have rocked with very little effort, but since he had chosen to be loudly not present, I couldn't just let it go. In true fashion, I finished it the night before the party. I was terrified that, at 11+ minutes, the entire party would come to a sleeping halt before we even served dessert.
No one saw it beforehand, not even J. When the DJ started it up, and I heard the opening lines of "I Got You, Babe", I knew it was going to be perfect.
Weeks after the party, my dad called and asked me if he could get a copy of it on a disc so he could share it with some friends who had been unable to attend the party. Later, he asked for another copy, to send to friends in Australia. Later, another. He didn't have a copy of his own to watch whenever he wanted.
The thing is, it wasn't about my parents loving it (although, I must say, that was pretty awesome). I did it because it was the only true way I could honor them. The party, the cost of the food, the cloth napkins...those things had nothing to do with the gratitude I felt. How do you thank people who stuck with you when you were the biggest pain in the ass? Who kept at you, kept trying, kept believing? People who lost sleep, gave up, then tried again? People whose hearts you have broken again and again, who never walked away?
From time to time, I sit and watch my tribute video, because I like the songs I chose. I love the pictures of my parents and the memories of my past. Tonight, as I sat here feeling sorry for myself (My kids aren't perfect! Poor me!), I poured the last of my bottle of red and pulled it up on the screen.
In eleven minutes, I remembered every moment I caused my mom to want to run away with the plumber, every time my dad wanted to quit his job and disappear as a statistic. And I thought, how blessed am I, to lead the beautiful life I lead today? How did I get here?
Because of them, I guess.
So when I tell you I'm tired of being a Mom, I want you to know what I mean: just today, that's all.
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