Today would make eight years since my mom passed away and as much as I want to say it feels like it was only yesterday, I can't. Eight years is a long time. If the Baby were born then, she'd be almost done with 2nd grade. Eight years is to the point that I can barely remember the sound of my mom's voice; yelling at me for doing something wrong. Sometimes I get lucky and have a dream where I can pinpoint her vivid laugh in a crowded room but those dreams are getting more and more rare each time I fall asleep. Seems that inception doesn't always work; so I am forced to watch 'shit Asian moms say' even though it reminds me more of my dad than anything.
But I don't have any worries that the Baby would experience the same issue when I die. Technology is so prolific now that documenting your life is second nature. We have a few pictures of my mom but rarely any that depict her personality. It's always a nice, photogenic smile for the camera but the real memory is the dirty look she'd give afterwards because she had to pose for another picture.
Sometimes I worry that the Baby is 'overexposed' since my Instagram and Facebook uploads are all about her. My friends tell me it's fine because she's cute so it's okay. I feel sorry for the parents of ugly kids. Those pictures are annoying. So freaking annoying. But we have a lot of pictures and videos of the Baby doing random things but not that many of me . I really don't care to be in any videos or pictures and I have a weird voice but I know it would mean a lot to have that memory documented.
We will end up doing the same thing for my mom's birthday like we do every year: get some yummy food and then take the Baby to stare at a patch of grass in the cemetery. Maybe I'll Instagram it.