‘there is something in time

that has sailed away forever.

There are faces now I’ll never

see in my mind again;

and perhaps there’s a mirror, a summer, a street

that already go under the echo of one more futile shade.’

-an excerpt from Jose Emilio Pacheco’s poem Boundaries

 

I have been rather silent on my blog over the last few months. Frankly, I didn’t know what to say because what was on my mind was something that seemed to not relate with what goes on here. But in time, I came to realize that it has everything to do with it. It has everything to do with everything in my life.

On November 19th, 2011, I lost my father. It has taken me almost 8 weeks to type these words out.

My Dad had been battling cancer for the past 22 months. He had a rare form of Thyroid cancer that was extremely aggressive and, once metastasized, rather all consuming. When Nick and I made the decision to move back to Colorado, I had no idea that this moment would be waiting for me. Sure, it had been a passing thought. But I had not thought it would be so soon. I count myself extremely blessed that I was able to work solely for my photography and design so that I could monopolize my time with my dad. Once it was obvious that he was slipping away, I began to grieve and prepare myself for that night in November. But I don’t think any grieving or preparation could prepare you to lose someone so close to your own being. I still remember the moment he went to be in glorious eternity with God. It was a feeling of relief, shock, hysteria, peace, and great sadness all at once. It was a great swirl of emotions that binds all who experience it. Just now thinking about it make me cry.

As we prepared for his memorial service, I began looking through pictures. It is how I remember and how I process. I was also in charge of putting together a slideshow of my Dad’s life. Many of the pictures I looked through were those on facebook. I came across this one from my wedding.

and noticed that my Dad had commented on it Christmas Eve of 2010. This is what he said.

“This was one of the best days of my life.”

Of course, I balled. How could you not? And I realized it was one of the best days of my life too and some of the best memories of my dad. Two months prior to our wedding, we received the news that Dad’s cancer had metastasized throughout his body. A week or two before our wedding, he started his first drug trial and was feeling miserable, to put it in a good way. The drug caused him to nauseous and bed ridden for days on end. The day before the wedding, he didn’t get out of bed because he felt so crumby. However, on the day of the wedding, he was my dad. 100%. Before his body was wrecked with cancer, before he lost a bunch of weight and before his hair turned white. Now looking back, this is the last time my dad was truly my dad. It was the last time that I saw him the way he has always been, carefree, a ton of fun, and full of life. All these photos are so precious to me now.

This experience has drastically changed how I look at shooting weddings. I look at them from a high point of perspective. I am not shooting them for that day nor the day after. I am shooting them for the day when you can no longer remember what it was like to dance with your dad, to get a hug from your grandfather, to feel happy and surrounded by all of those that you love. Time is like a boat that slowly sails away. Someday your dad’s face will be a distant memory, slowly fading, and you will look at the pictures that I took and remember.

I shot a wedding 3 days after my dad’s memorial service. Shooting this wedding greatly blessed me. I found myself behind the lens looking at my own wedding. Even some of the images were similar. Dad coming in to see his daughter as a bride, and giving her a hug. Laughing while you dance together on the dance floor. I felt an understanding of my importance so much greater than I had before. I will never know the circumstances that tomorrow may bring but I do understand the impact of what I do in the present. I am a memory keeper. I am a time stopper.

In closing, I want to thank all of my wonderful, amazing and ever patient clients who have worked with me in the process. I have been scatter brained and not all together and you have been so gracious to me. Thank you for giving me the time and the permission to grieve and figure out what like is like on the other side of cancer. I am greatly honored to have worked with you and hope that I will get the honor again soon.

And in true photographer fashion, I leave you with some photos.

 

 

 

 

 

I found out this past Thanksgiving that he got the shiner from his brother punching.

 

He loved cars.

 

 

my dad with my first camera (its a bit older than me)

 

My dad and my brother

 

my dad and me

 

Just makes me laugh.

 

 

 

I didn’t even play baseball. I think it was a baseball themed dance.

 

 

 

 

A favorite past time.

 

Getting my drivers license.

 

Post dance recital.

 

 

Go CU!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Classic Dad face.

 

 

again, another classic.

Dad’s hole in one.

 

 

 

In Seattle on top of the Space Needle.

When we showed him his hole in one stuff framed. and the last photo I took of him.