Through the Lens of my Parents

BY ANGELA LIM

My parents love to take pictures a little too much. Every time we went out together — whether we were at a restaurant, church or the mall — we paused for photos. My siblings and I honed our default smiles from years of standing in front of our dad’s camera. As a family of seven, we often drew attention to ourselves in public. I felt embarrassed growing up. I wondered why we couldn’t just experience normal moments as they were.

My dad has been sending me old photos since I moved away from the Philippines. A few months ago, he forwarded a picture of our family on my 14th birthday. He saw it purely as a warm celebration, but he had forgotten that I cried before the photo was taken.

I don’t know exactly when, but my mom once came into the room my sisters and I shared. She sat on the edge of my bed and droned on about her life experiences before we all fell asleep.

“The reason why your dad takes photos is so that we always have a reminder that we have something,” she said. “So please leave him be and don’t get upset at him.”

Her words still stick with me. My mom could understand my dad’s sentiments from her life of traveling and seeing so much of the world. For my dad – who was neglected from the typical joys of childhood – the photos he took give him memories to relive. He purposely blocks the sadness out of his mind and cherishes his delight for as long as he can; his phone storage is always full, as well as the SD cards of digital cameras he’s carried wherever he went. My parents fill in every inch of our home with picture frames and photo albums, but they never seem to collect dust. Both of them try to make up for lost time.

It took me a while to realize that the photos they’ve taken over the years represent the life they envisioned for me and my siblings. They want us to look back at these moments fondly, even if we’re the only ones who could notice the hint of annoyance and frustration we felt. We have evidence that we’ve lived well in spite of it all. Nothing was wasted.

Spending the holidays thousands of miles away, my dad messaged me a couple of days before the new year.

“You’re all still young, so there are many, many more years for all of us to get together,” he said. “That’s why I’m exercising and eating well so I can live longer and be with you all.”

If it only takes a single photo for my parents to be happy, how can I say no? Nowadays, they never fail to unravel the memories I had forgotten and moments I wish to experience again.

I make it a habit to send my mom and dad photos of new dishes I cook. I record the rusted foliage around Austin so they can see what winter looks like from my perspective. I show them the people who’ve made my life here in America worthwhile to lessen their worries. Like my parents – who feel homesick too – I’m trying to fearlessly capture time before it slips away.