There’s a trend on social media of women posting videos of themselves laughing and being flirtatious, acting like it’s their man behind the camera, so they’ll have something to play at their funeral.

This was so funny to watch in the beginning because I was like, “I need to do this!”

But today as I was scrolling through my camera roll, it made me sad.

Because at my funeral, if my husband or anyone decided to go through my phone to get photos to do a slide show . . .

They would only find pictures of the grandparents with my kids.

My husband with my kids.

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My children together.

Some selfies of my kids and me . . . that I attempted to take.

And maybe a few of my husband and me, since he hates photos.

There would be none of me piled up in the bed reading our kids bedtime stories, like we do every night.

There would be none of me outside riding my daughter around on the lawnmower just because she enjoys it.

There would be none of my boys and me throwing the football, like we do on some evenings.

There would be none of us getting the flowerbeds ready for springtime, like we do every year.

There would be none of my kids and me playing chess on game night.

Or all of us piled up on the couch on Friday night doing popcorn and movies.

There would be none.

Because I am the one behind the camera.

Always.

And it’s not that I’m trying to complain.

Because I love taking the photos of everyone.

But I think about how one day I won’t be here, and even though they’ll hold the memories in their hearts, I would love them to be able to hold a photo too, and say, “That’s me and my mom, I remember this day.” Or “That’s my wife and me, it was a good day.”

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It takes two seconds to snap a memory.

Grandparents, husbands, even wives.

Take the photos.

She deserves to be in them too.