A picture is worth.....what? Venting!

I need to vent, and I need to vent fast.
Photos are my thing. I love pictures and the value that they hold. People take photos of happy times, to remember the smell, the light, the joy of a memory. People take photos of not so happy times. To remember a fleeting moment, gone too soon, never to be had again but wanting to be stricken in the books as having happened.
I have said before, and I will say until I die- I can not stomach when people say things like "Oh delete that one..." or "Oh that looks horrible!" or the evil, disgusting phrase that I have grown to despise, "No, no, don't take a picture of me."

Guess what?!?! There will be a day that no more pictures will be taken of you, and it is because you will be GONE. Then what? What are your loved one's supposed to remember you by? Your....clothes hanging in your closet? Your... art hanging on the walls? What?! If I didn't have photos of my Grandy- how would I remember that he resembles Elvis when he is not smiling, and that when he was smiling, it could stop anyone in their tracks. How would I remember the smell of the shop on his 'uniform' white shirt that he is wearing in so many of the photos that I have. I can almost hear his laugh when I see a photo of him in his happiest place, with us grandchildren. How would I be able to hold on to all of that love and all of that if I had nothing to look at, nothing to listen to, nothing to have and to hold? If I did not have photos and video of my Aunt Cheri, how would I remember that she was the most sassy and classy dressed woman that you would ever meet? That she always had her makeup done perfectly, and that she loved huge gold jewelery. How would I remember the sound of her singing loud to anything Mariah Carey in the middle of the living room if there was not evidence that it happened?
Yes, memories are good and fine- if you have a good one but if you are like me and do not then pictures will help me one day tell a story that I can not so easily remember. What if I want to tell my children about a grandfather that they will never get to meet? About my father's father and how he taught me to live off of the land. I can show them, there are hundreds of photos of him with us in the garden, or naked running around in the sprinkler on a hot day. I can see in a photo, his watchful eye, and almost hear his country accent saying my name in a firm tone as to say, "Amber, stop that." I can smell the Irish Spring soap on his skin when I am posing beside him in a family photo. All because I can see him. I can see his face. I can see his balding head, I can see his bowed legs. I can see him.
Maybe not every picture of my aunt, or my grandparents is perfect. Maybe their eyes are slightly closed, or their meds made them look 'puffy', maybe their hair was messed up, or maybe they had NONE. I certainly do not care a stitch if I look horrible, if there is a picture of me alive and well- I am good. At least my loved ones will have something to remember me by since none of us are guaranteed a second chance and tomorrow is not promised either.