Ghosts

--Not quite what you think.

I was looking over some pictures from last month's family reunion when I realized that while taking pictures, I had captured a shot of a ghost. Yes, a ghost! I didn't realize it at first, but as I enlarged the digital picture I saw it clear as day!

During the reunion I moved about the lodge, taking candid shots of family as they socialized. Then Uncle Aubrey gave me a glance and tilted his head, the way he does when he is giving a warning. He had all ready told me he didn't want me posting pictures of him on the Internet. The nod was just a friendly reminder. This time, though, the look reminded me of something else. I didn't have time to think about Uncle Aubrey, though. Cousins wanted to leave the lodge to look at my grandmother's property, the place where we spent many pleasant summer vacations. My grandmother died about 30 years ago and walking around her on property always invited floods of childhood memories.

I was multitasking the day I discovered the ghost. I was arranging decorative pumpkins between family photographs on the mantle of the fireplace as I downloaded pictures from my camera onto the computer. As I dusted the only picture I have of my beloved grandmother, I saw it, a familiar expression, the slight tilt of the head that I had seen just a few weeks before. I held the ancient 11o photograph (before the days of the 35 mm cameras) next to my digital picture of my uncle. There it was, the same expression. They both cut their eyes and furrowed their brow the same way.

Yes, the familiar expressions and gestures that were once my grandmother's were passed on to her son. My grandmother lives on.

One way we conquer death is through the memories and expressions that are imprinted on those who love us. The stories that are passed on-- traits and customs that bind us together give new life to those who lived before. We can choose to leave a legacy of generosity, courage, tenacity, or one of failure, poverty, or fear.

There is some comfort that someday, perhaps after I am long gone from this world, that a grandchild might look into the eyes of my own son and see something of me in him.