In which I finish retrospective the slide show of Anthony and Kate’s lives.

Last year, I nearly lost my son in labor. He got stuck in the birth canal. Three interns and one doctor attached a plunger (OK. Not really.) to his head while the nurse pushed on my abdomen. When he finally emerged, he scored a one on the Apgar. (Zero is dead.) A few months ago, he started driving. In forty-eight hours, he’s committing to spend the remainder of his life with Kate. I am not being hyperbolic—that’s honestly how quickly it seems the past twenty years have gone by.

I will not add the soundtrack for Barbara Streisand singing Memories at this point. I am not aiming to manipulate anyone. Because I’ve worked as a photographer for nearly thirty years, our children have very well documented lives. As I finished up the slide show which I’ll present during the rehearsal dinner, I became utterly overwhelmed at the beauty of life.

Those green corduroys that we smooshed him in long after he had outgrown them simply because he looked so cute.

The day we played in our tiny urban lot and Anthony popped the bucket on his head while singing Raffi’s Baby Beluga.

Our first day of homeschooling. His smile. Our wonder at this crazy choice. (We did an entire unit on Lentil as I recall.)

Violin lessons. Oh how that screech made me crazy. But then at some point, the sounds became music. Real music and I actually longed to hear him practice.

The jubilant photo op with Papelbon, his hero at the time. He actually wrote for the Red Sox Kids’ Nation for multiple years. An enviable gig for a teenage baseball player.

I remember his final excruciatingly frustrating season of baseball. Despite his best efforts, he spent most of his senior year on the bench. I shared his pain and disappointment. This marked his final season of organized sports.

And then his goodbye hug shared with his brothers as he left for college two years ago. Little did any of us know that in just a few weeks, he would meet his future spouse (by throwing a marshmallow in her face mind you).

It’s impossible to articulate the pride, love, and wonder that I feel as I look over these images. Really—wasn’t he born yesterday? Remembering. All of it. Savoring. All of it. These are sweet times.

(I’ve been blogging about the days leading up to our son’s wedding for more than a week. Scroll back through my feed to catch up. I may or may not post for the next two days. Look for wedding photos on Monday. 🙂 )