Photos are more than pictures. They’re the pieces of our history that we hold onto when words fall short. In this personal reflection, I share how family images became a bridge to my dad’s memory and why capturing your loved ones now is a gift for the future.
One day photos are all that will remain
Eighteen months ago my father was diagnosed with lung cancer that spread to his brain as well as kidney cancer. After his diagnosis we entered a strange world where time simultaneously slowed down and sped up, where we unquestioningly followed doctors orders for treatments that indiscriminately destroyed the healthy with the diseased; and where we were at the mercy of insurance companies who had the power to deny such treatments.
Time is your most valuable commodity when you realize there isn't much of it left. Pictures of your loved ones are a close second.
Shortly after dad's diagnosis we contacted a local photographer who agreed to take our family's photos. It had been over 20 years since we had photos of our immediate family. So much had changed in those 20 years.
On a blistery November day, with only a few days notice, 📸: @missbfoto810 took the last photos I have of my dad looking like the gentle giant that he was, surrounded by the people he loved most.
Photos offer glimpses into the past
After dad passed, we did what most families do: we flipped through the photo albums looking for memories. Grandma told the stories belonging to his childhood. Dad’s brothers told the stories belonging to his young adulthood. His wife told the stories belonging to their marriage. Each story inspired by an image. Each image evidence of the life he lived. Together the images worked to tell the story of the man who was no longer able to tell it himself.
Flipping through the pages of the photo album, we came across this gem of my dad with his brothers. I have never seen my uncle (on the right), with so much hair - on his head or on his face! This struck me as a great album cover of some 70s band that should have been made but never was.
