Pictures don't make up for time

Gregory opened the door to quite a surprise: another person. He had not had visitors in… well a significant margin of time as he could not remember the last. He went to shake hands as that was what one was to do when greeting another. Instead the young postman put a clipboard in his hand and asked him to sign for a package.

Slightly dejected, Gregory signed and wondered what on earth had been sent to him; he never ordered anything. When you order something you can’t inspect it, make sure it is quality, and that it will last. He was the type of man that had the same boots and wallet for twenty plus years. He kept everything tidy and functional with just a little bit of effort every time they were used.

The postman handed Gregory a small package after he returned the clipboard. It was a small box that was quite obviously a book of some sort. He hated reading, so he took it politely and waited for the postman to leave. Instead, the postman said, “Sir, that is a special delivery, so I was instructed to wait until you opened it.”

Gregory flipped over the package and instantly dropped it as if he were burnt. “Is this some sick joke!” he bellowed at the postman who went to grab it. “You DARE use my dead wife's name on a package to get me to read some stupid book, probably about politics or some other stupid topic of which I have no actual control!” He was furious at the gull this young postman displayed.

Regaining his composure after this abrupt display, the postman stood his ground, “I am merely delivering packages, sir.”

Gregory picked up the package and ripped the paper packaging off. Inside were two photo albums: one that was tattered and very old; the other new and glittery. He knew immediately by the horrible pastel pink sparkly color that his wife had picked it out. The old photo album was filled with them and their little girl, Anna. Oh, she was so perfect when she was young! Then she grew up, got married, and did not come around much. After Anna died in childbirth, her husband moved for work, so they never got to meet their grandchild. Gregory went from extremely angry to very sad, and then realized he had screamed at this poor man earlier.

“My sincerest apologies, but when did this get brought to the post office?”

“Well, that is the weird part; apparently we received this three years ago.”

Three? That didn’t make sense to Gregory. His wife had died just over a year ago, and his daughter had been gone six years now. He found a note tucked into the new album addressed to him from his departed wife.

“Greg, Honey, I know this is going to be hard to take, but I have to tell you that I lied to you.” The letter was definitely penned by her hand, and he could barely read it because he was shaking so badly. “When Anna died, Ben came by the house frequently. He would drop off a few things for me to keep of Anna’s, and he would bring our grandchild, Angie, for us to see. You were always at work, though. Whether or not you want to admit it, you did blame Ben for Anna’s death. It is not his fault, you know. Anna died, and that hurts you, but he is hurting just as much - if not more than you. You lost your beautiful little girl, but he lost his loving wife, the mother of his precious daughter, and he knows you feel that he killed our little girl. He has a little girl of his own, so he can imagine what losing her would be like because he almost did. When I am gone, he is going to need your help. I lied about Ben and Angie moving away; they still live just one town over, and Ben still has the same phone number as he always had.

As you know, your granddaughter has special needs from lacking oxygen during her birth. Being a single father of a daughter who needs constant help is more than Ben can handle on his own, though he has been doing his best since we lost Anna. Please find it in your heart to forgive him. I know how you think, so you don’t actually have to say the words that you forgive him, but you do need to help our granddaughter. Angie needs you. Anna would want you to tell her all about her mom when she was our little girl. Remember your favorite Proverb: ‘Yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery; today is a gift - that’s why it’s called the present.’ With love, forever and always, Judy.”

With his wife’s words echoing in his heart, he went inside to look at the new photo album full of pictures of Judy and Angie. Gregory’s eyes filled with tears as he realized how much time he had lost in this little girl’s life. He dabbed his face with his handkerchief and picked up his phone to call Ben to ask for and give his forgiveness. Gregory was looking forward to meeting his granddaughter, and it was the first happiness he had felt in over a year.