![]() ![]() Explore our collection and discover a thoughtful way to offer comfort and create a place of remembrance during life's most challenging times. Our Memorial Frames are a testament to our commitment to crafting meaningful gifts that touch the heart and provide solace when it's needed most. These frames serve as a source of comfort, allowing individuals to keep their loved one's memory alive and close to their heart.Īt Celebration Giftware, we understand the profound significance of these moments. Whether you choose a frame with a heartfelt quote, a serene landscape, or a simple and elegant design, they all share a common purpose: to provide solace and create a place of remembrance.īy gifting a Memorial Frame, you offer more than just a piece of decor you provide a meaningful way for someone to honor and celebrate the life of their dearly departed. Our Memorial Frames come in a variety of designs and styles, each offering a unique way to pay tribute. Personalized in Loving Memory Picture Frames (1 - 60 of 1,000+ results) Price () Shipping All Sellers Sort by: Relevancy Personalized Christmas Dad Memorial Gift Photo Frame, In Loving Memory of Gift, 5x7 or 4圆 Picture Frame, Remembrance Gift Keepsake (21.6k) 14.49 18. Placed in your home, they provide a comforting reminder that love endures, even in the face of loss. These frames are carefully crafted to encapsulate the essence of your loved one, preserving their image and the beautiful memories you shared. ![]() Our collection of Memorial Frames is thoughtfully designed to serve as a place of remembrance and comfort during these difficult times.Įach Memorial Frame is more than just a picture holder it's a sanctuary for treasured moments and a loving tribute to a life well-lived. Whether youre celebrating the memory of a spouse. In the tender moments following the loss of a loved one, finding solace and preserving cherished memories become paramount. Your frame could be a tribute to that love in the form of our Infinite Impressions wedding band frame. Available from Radius Books.Memorial Frames: Creating a Place of Remembrance in Times of Loss Texts by Binh Danh, Boreth Ly, Joshua Chuang, Isabelle Thuy Pelaud, and Andrew Lam. 1979 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.įrom Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging. 1981 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books. 1966 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books. early 1978 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books. Waiting, 2009 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books. Untitled #4, 2009 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books. The photos are intact.Īmbush in the Leaf, 2007 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books. I pull at its drawer and out spill dozens of black-and-white photos. Immediately, I start to rummage among the pile of broken bricks and fallen plasters, finding, at last, a nightstand that once belonged to my mother. What I failed to retrieve in the dream survives, if only as an exquisite longing. I walk through the rusted iron gate to find, to my horror, the place gutted-an empty structure where once there was life and love. In the dream, I find myself once more in front of my old home in Saigon. Then last week I had a dream that was so instructive it left me with a different estimation of that loss. But why didn’t I save the rest, the way I slipped my stamp collection in my backpack hours before we boarded the C-130 cargo plane and headed for Guam? For years I could not look at friends’ family photo albums without feeling remorse. A few pictures survived because my older brother, who was a foreign student, had taken them with him. Only years later in America did I begin to regret the act. When I was done, the mementos of three generations had turned into ashes. I put them all in a pile in the backyard and lit a match. Obediently, I removed pictures from the album pages, diplomas from their glass frames, film reels from metal canisters, letters from desk drawers. We were living in Saigon at the time, and as Viet Cong tanks rolled toward the edge of the city, my mother, half-crazed with fear, ordered me to get rid of everything incriminating. When I was eleven years old, I did an unforgivable thing: I set my family photos on fire.
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