Grief Articles

My Healing Scrapbook
© A. Edrich
All materials copyrighted

Scrapbooking has taken the nation by storm because it combines our love of photographs with our love of crafting. But did you know that it can actually be very therapeutic?

Ever since my children were born, I’ve been the “crazed mom behind the camera.” Everywhere we’d go, my children would hear, “snap, snap, snap” while I would hear, “Mom-m-m! Do I have to take another picture?” One day my son got so fed up with me that he literally gave a frown for every picture I took that day—but that didn’t stop me from capturing a permanent glimpse of our lives.

Little did I know those pictures would be all I had left of my little girl…one day we were smiling for the camera and enjoying our trip to Knott’s Berry Farm in Buena Park, California and the next day I was mourning her death and wondering why the world decided to punish us for being so blissfully happy.

As I mourned her death, I spent countless hours staring at her pictures…just wishing for one more chance to hold her. Wishing someone had invented a time machine so I could go back in time and make everything all right again. Wishing I could hear her laugh. Wishing I could see her smile or smell her baby soft skin or watch her play with her siblings. Deep down, I knew that day would never again return, but in my dreams I could escape reality.

Then my mother had a brilliant idea. She suggested that I create a scrapbook in my daughter's honor. I could cut and glue the pictures into the pages of a scrapbook and jot down little notes under the pictures. I could even draw or write in the pages if I needed to.

My mind wasn’t quite in the right place for cutting, pasting, and creating but as I began to work on that very special scrapbook, something happened inside me that I couldn’t explain. In just a few short minutes, I was smiling, laughing, and crying. As I worked on each picture, my brain struggled to remember the day that picture was taken and for a brief moment, it was as if my daughter was there with me again.

In time, I finished my scrapbook and proudly showed it to anyone who’d take the time to listen to me share my daughter’s life. My scrapbook wasn’t fancy. And it definitely was not the most beautiful piece of artwork around. After all, it was put together by a grieving mother who cared less about the final outcome and more about the memories. But it was mine.

It was my connection to my daughter. It was the one thing that told the world she was real…that showed the world she was loved beyond measure…that showed how truly happy she was...and it was the one thing that will always say, “I miss and love you!”

Seven years later, I still pull that scrapbook out. And when I do, the laughter, the tears, and my daughter’s presence are all around me.