This week's Weekend Engagement prompt from @galenkp was a pain in the ass not the easiest task to perform. Choosing one single picture to tell a story with from amongst what must be enough pictures with which to fill the Smithsonian is no small ask. As I started swearing flipping through my digital hodgepodge collection of selfies, portraits, snapshots, and other random shit, I felt that I had a few requirements to meet:
- A good picture. It shouldn't suck.
- It should represent me in some way.
- It should not embarrass me in any way.
- It should be something I could tell a story about.
- Preferably not a selfish one.
Ultimately, I settled on this picture, which did not meet all my criteria above:
- This selfie is awful. Ugh.
This picture - this seemingly random, poorassed selfie taken so many Halloween's ago - is certainly not going to win any awards. It's also not going to entertain anyone, make anyone think, or evoke an emotional response in anyone in the world other than myself.
And, quite frankly, this one sole picture nearly brings me to tears.
Warning: Sanctimonious soul-dumping ahead.
This one picture was taken very shortly before my life seemed to turn upside down and begin a mostly-uncontrolled-freefall from fun to struggling to exist day to day.
The three boys in the picture are mine, from oldest to youngest, and this picture really does capture them and their true essence: Joshua, the oldest, is routinely bemused at whatever I or his brothers always seem to be doing, and he'll stay on the periphery and watch quietly until shaking his head and walking away or joining in the chaos. Matthew, the middle son in the truest sense of the word was a fun-loving jokester and prankster who found something to laugh at in everything. And Christopher, the youngest... well... he's still like that. He makes me laugh every day.
Shortly after this was taken Joshua fell into a deep depression that required hospitalisation. He's still managing it, but it took a toll on his enthusiasm and motivation. He went from fun loving to depressed and has never quite gotten out of it.
After that, Matthew fell not only into a depression, but became quasi suicidal. He has been hospitalised twice and, though he's no longer a threat to himself, the toll his illness has taken on him is causing me to find the need to withdraw him from school and begin to homeschool him. He's likely going to need to repeat this grade, but my deepest hope is that homeschool will help him find reasons to be prideful again.
And Christopher... is Christopher. Aspergers and ADD fill his day, and everything he does makes me laugh. He is so full of insight and humour that I really do laugh every day, even if he is choosing to attempt to rick-roll me again instead of getting dressed for school (I no longer trust the web-links he sends me; I have grown weary of Rick Astley showing his face on my phone).
It's a daily chore to remind myself that I am not and was not to blame for their illnesses, and some days are easier than others. When I disappear from Hive for days on end it is because one or more of them requires attention, but at least I no longer feel the need to sleep on the upper bunk of two, with Matthew on the lower, so I can keep an eye on him. I'll take that victory.
So why does this picture mean so much to me? Because this is how I like to remember my boys. When I'm on my deathbed, this is the picture that's going to bring me comfort, even if it is one of these boys that are going to be the end of me (and it'll be Christopher - don't let that innocent mug fool you; he's a little imp).
(c) All images and photographs, unless otherwise specified, are created and owned by me.
(c) Victor Wiebe
About Me
Amateur photographer. Wannabe author. Game designer. Nerd.
General all around problem-solver and creative type.
Blind Skeleton
Online Radio: https://blindskeleton.one/radio/
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