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Sara: A Memory Album
By Sharon Knopic
Two months ago I was asked to participate in what was to become the most difficult scrapbooking assignment since I took up this hobby over a decade ago.
One of my best friends, Wendy Weaver, asked a dozen scrapbookers to combine their efforts to compose a memorial album for her friends who had lost their daughter in February. The night is forever inscribed in my memory. Wendy had phoned shortly after 11PM, asking if I was watching the news. I said no; she was sobbing. Her friends had a daughter, "Sara" and a little girl, the same age, in her neighborhood, with the same name, had been struck by a school bus as she stooped to pick up a dropped umbrella. She was killed. Wendy was still in shock, hoping that there was another "Sara" in that neighborhood. I knew better; truthfully, so did Wendy.
Of course I agreed. She and I discussed how to go about this, and laid the ground works. The first thing we both agreed upon was that copies needed to be made of all the photos, that in no way did we want responsibility for the originals. Secondly, we had to choose carefully who was to participate, as I learned how persistent the newscasters can be in their quest for a photograph or news of the grieving family. We made sure that everyone participating returned the photograph provided, not copied for personal use, if they were enlarging, cropping, etc., for their layout. She divided up the pictures with the help of Sara's mother, Kathy, according to themes and events. Kathy also agreed to add the journaling to make the album more personal for the family. Finally Wendy logged each set of photographs and who had received them. With these plans set, we began.
We were twelve ladies, and no one knew everyone. Not even Wendy. We just delved into the task and tried hard not to think about the situation, although many a tear flowed. The opening page was to be Sara's last formal picture, taken for Christmas 6 weeks earlier. There was to be a family portrait layout near the front. And we were told when "stumped" on a general page, to use dragonflies, which was Sara's favorite creature. On her memorial card, she is smiling with a dragonfly pin at her neckline. We knew this needed to be the closing page, but what else needed to go onto it? Wendy was stumped. I said "Let me think." That night in bed I thought a letter to Sara, and why we did this album, would be most appropriate. Maybe the fact that we all bonded to let the world know she walked this earth, if but for a short time. After telling Wendy (who thought this perfect), she asked me to do it. I told her I didn't know where to start, but I knew someone who did. And I contacted Joanna.
Here's what she wrote:
* * *
Dear Sara,
Although we can not see you with our eyes, we recognize you by the feeling in our hearts. Through time and space and all the dust particles that build the Universe, we reach out to you, knowing you have gone before us to a better world.
Without your laughter, we must listen more closely to the songs of birds to hear your voice. Without the touch of your hand, we must run our fingers on the petals of a rose to feel your sweet skin. There will always be this void where you would have stood.
But know this...you are not forgotten. And because we are still here, trying so hard to imagine the "there" where you are, we have collected these small remembrances, these tokens to comfort those who must wait out their lives to join you. We are strangers to each other, united by the belief that memories can last forever.
It is a small thing. A very small thing. But at least it is something.
* * *
The beautiful letter was exactly what we were searching for, combining our thoughts and including the hope that Sara can hear the words, and adding our feelings for the parents and family of a life lost too soon.
But we know it must come to an end. Our desires to continue on with every picture we can find of Sara, is not practical, and tearing us apart. It needs to have an ending, just as life does. So with this last group of pages, and Joanna's beautiful letter, it will be passed on to the family, with a wink to the heavens for Sara.
(Note: We've changed the names of the little girl and her mother for privacy's sake.)
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