Gavin Retrieves Joy with Gratitude
A Photo Album’s Outcome
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Listen to Gavin’ story as you read it (below).
Gavin sat in his worn armchair, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. He held a faded photograph, his fingers tracing the outline of Clara’s face.
Lately, the image that haunted him was not the vibrant woman he loved, but the pale, thin face of her final days. The memory clung to him. It was a persistent ache.
He tried to recall their earlier times – the laughter and shared dreams. But the specter of her illness always crept in, a shadow obscuring the brighter moments. He felt a pang of guilt, a sense that he was betraying her memory by dwelling on her suffering.
Gavin closed his eyes, attempting to conjure up a happier image. But he saw her frail hands and the way she struggled to breathe. He opened his eyes. A sigh escaped from his lips. "It's no use," he muttered, his voice a low rumble. "I can't seem to shake it."
He reached for a worn leather-bound album, its pages filled with photographs of their life together. He flipped through the pages. His eyes scanned the images, searching for a spark of joy.
Eventually, Gavin paused at a photo from their honeymoon, a snapshot of them on a beach in Santorini. The azure Aegean Sea stretched out behind them. Clara’s face was radiant. Her smile was wide and genuine.
He stared at the photo, his heart aching with a mixture of love and loss. He remembered the warm sand beneath his feet, the salty tang of the sea air, the sound of Clara’s laughter as they chased the waves. He remembered the way she looked at him, her eyes filled with love and hope.
He moved on to a page from their early years, a time of shared dreams and youthful exuberance.
A photo of their first apartment surprised him. It was smaller than how he remembered it. Tiny but filled with love. The walls were a bright yellow, Clara's choice. She said it would bring sunshine into their lives, even on the cloudiest days.
Gavin remembered the way they would dance in the living room, their laughter echoing through the small space. And they cooked together, experimenting with new recipes, sometimes with disastrous results.
He realized that his life had been filled with moments of extraordinary beauty, moments that had shaped him, moments that had made him who he was. He had been blessed with a love that had lasted a lifetime, a love that continued to sustain him.
A wave of gratitude washed over him, bringing tears to his eyes. He realized he had been focusing on the ending, on the pain and loss but had forgotten the beginning, the years of joy and love they had shared.
Gavin flipped through the album with a renewed sense of purpose. As he glanced at their travels and their family gatherings, he saw Clara’s smile at every turn and heard her laughter echoing through the years.
Then he flipped back to a photo of them dancing at their wedding. Clara’s dress swirled around her as they moved to the music. He remembered the way she held him close, her hand resting on his shoulder and her eyes sparkling with happiness.
Gavin couldn’t deny the pain of losing Clara, but the album she carefully compiled over the years now had a message of its own – at least for him. It was Clara’s gift to him so he could focus on the love they had shared, the memories they had created.
He needed to savor those moments, taking time to turn them over in his mind like precious stones.
He closed the album, a sense of peace settling over him. He stood up, stretching his stiff limbs. He walked to the window, gazing out at the setting sun, its golden rays painting the sky in vibrant hues. He was thankful for Clara’s spirit. It was as bright and vibrant as the sunset.
He turned away from the window, a renewed sense of purpose filling him. He had a lifetime of memories to cherish, a gallery of grateful moments to revisit. He would continue to remember, not with regret, but with a heart full of gratitude for Clara’s love, laughter and memories.
Gavin's takeaway tip from his story: Bask in the past by recalling -- with gratitude -- what is good.
Also hear and read Gavin’s “parent story” from 2024
Go to “Gus’s Enhanced Memory”
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As a 10-year-old, I dreamed of attending the University of Wisconsin in Madison, but it seemed so far out of reach for me because I had cerebral play and had difficulty walking independently.
I had no crutches at that time and depended on pushing wheelchairs and “hugging walls” for stability. My therapists thought crutches would limit my development.
I went crutch-less through high school and applied at the Madison campus in 1961 with good grades and a state-funded scholarship. After a meeting with the admissions people, my application was turned down because they had serious questions about how I could navigate the steps and hills of the Madison campus, especially when there were only 15 minutes between class times.
I was devastated because I wanted to major in journalism, and the Madison campus was the only place in the state which offered that degree.
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So, I decided to take my first two years of college at Platteville State College, a flat campus, where all my classes were in one building. I bought a grocery cart to carry my books and provide the stability I needed to walk from my dorm to Old Main.
I then bought Canadian crutches and, for two summers, practiced walking as fast as I could through the fields of our dairy farm, timing myself to see how far I could go in 15 minutes.
By 1963, I was ready to transfer to the Madison campus and was accepted as a junior in journalism/advertising. I graduated with honors in 1965.
* When have you surprised yourself by turning a time of grief into a period of personal growth?