If I ever start to forget…

All I ask is that you show me this image if I ever start to forget. Image created by MacKenzie Isaac. (Photo provided/MacKenzie Isaac) In the weeks leading up to the publication of this essay, I couldn’t put pen to paper for more than two minutes before the grief came rolling like thunder. The three grandparents who were alive during my childhood were my three best friends. The thought that by the end, their memories surrounding our best-friendships were completely obscured filled me with a cavernous rage that left me unable to write for days at a time. Knowing that, this Black History Month, my one goal was to commemorate my grandparents. My mind turned over several options for sharing my reflections in a way that felt both informative and emotionally safe. I finally enlisted the help of Canva’s Magic Media tool to curate a self-portrait that does justice to how I remember my grandparents – a looking glass that, in my own old age, I can peek into and remember. Once upon a time, I had a grandmother who tended to my bee stings when we worked in her strawberry and squash gardens and whose calming presence emanated from...