When Yellowing Photos Whispered a Truth, I Wasn’t Ready For

By Sunil Saxena

I had never thought that family albums can also be a source of pain till I picked up an old family album that was lying at the bottom of the bookshelf.

The album cover had frayed with age and some of the photographs had turned yellow. But it was not the condition of the photographs that bothered me.

It was the faces in the photographs. They were all familiar faces; faces that had given me so much joy.

They were now gone.

My chest tightened as I saw my parents, my uncles, my aunts. My father, his stern yet kind face; my mother, always gentle, always smiling. They raised me, shaped me, loved me unconditionally, and now they existed only in these fading pictures.

My father-in-law, once so strong and commanding, reduced now to a mere memory. My mother-in-law, who always fussed over me like her own son, gone as well. A lump formed in my throat. Will I be the last one standing?

The faces blurred as my eyes welled up. I thought of all the conversations left unfinished, all the laughter that will never return. I wonder if they knew how much they meant to me. I wonder if I told them enough.

I saw faces of my friends, standing together at office parties, laughing during tea breaks, posing with awards. I paused on a photograph of Ranjan. We had started work together. His hand rested on my shoulder, and he had a wide grin on his face.

Then, I saw Raj. He was a couple of years junior but was always full of life, ambitious, swashbuckling — a quintessential party man. We had clashed several times in the office, but were good friends.

He too was gone. So were many others. One by one, several of my friends had gone. Some taken by illness, others by fate’s cruel hand. I never thought I’d outlive so many of them.

I closed the album, my fingers lingering on the cover, and sat lost in thought, the weight of the past weighing heavily on me. But even as sadness engulfed me, I reminded myself that I was still alive. That I must cherish those who remain, that I must reach out before time steals away more loved ones.

I made a vow. Tomorrow, I will call my family members, my old friends. I will make sure they know how much they matter.

Because one day, these albums will be all that’s left of me, too. And I hope, when that time comes, someone will turn these pages and remember me with the same warmth I feel for those who are gone.

(First Published on Medium.com in February 2025.)

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