A Haunted Memory - The Day the President Died

I kept a scrapbook of the events as they were unfolding when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. I was a school girl and the grief was impossible to comprehend, so page by page I posted the images as they were printed in the newspaper that spoke to our collective grief as a nation.

Eventually that scrapbook found its way into a box that found its way into the dark corners of my parent's garage. One day, a couple of years ago, I found it tattered and brittle, the pages fragile and the images fading, but touching it then and touching it now is to revisit those moments as if they happened moments ago.

Fifty years sped by and I am grieved that the nation we knew and enjoyed before this event never returned.