As you all know, I have been sharing my story this month.
This is, without a doubt, the most difficult and most important part of my story for me to share.
I have this polaroid in my office, I love it so much. Look at how he is looking at me. Do you see it? That Daddy love? I feel it every time I look at this image. I feel his arms around my waist, the warmth of his smile, the strength of his arms and I even sometimes hear a whisper of his voice.
Even though I don’t remember him at all.
On July 28th, 1977 (34 years ago!) my Dad, his two brothers and his Dad headed out to play golf in the morning…someone snapped this photo of the men on the golf course:
From left to right: Grandpa, Uncle Peter, My Daddy, Uncle John
Little did anyone in our family know at that moment how important that quick snap of a camera would be…but it was.
Later that afternoon, we lost my father in a tragic accident that rocked our entire family’s world.
We lost the man that everyone adored, everyone cherished and everyone looked to for a little outlandishness, a lot of support and unabashed love. Dad was the brother everyone loved (but shook their head at when he came up with crazy ideas!) He was the cousin that everyone has a story about (and still tell the stories 34 years later!) He was the husband that believed his wife walked on water. He was the Dad that took his baby girl out of the nurse’s arms after she was born and walked her through the hospital asking everyone “Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?”
This image was the turning point for me in my photography. In 2006 I learned when this image was taken and it shook me to the very core. Soon after that, Erik bought me my first DSLR and I began to realize that photography was a method of healing for me.
Taking pictures of my husband, my children, my family and friends, putting those images on the wall and sharing them with friends and family through blogging, email and facebook allowed me to take time, freeze it and not worry that it would be gone forever. My photography took away my fears and my worries about forgetting and let me live.
Live my life.
Remember my Dad.
Heal my heart.
Somewhere along the line, my Dad whispered to my heart that it was time for me to pass that gift on to others.
I fought him for awhile.
Finally, I listened and my business launched.
Now? I look at those two images and I smile and say “Hey Dad! Look at me now!”
I know he’s up there with my images on his heaven Ipad or heaven Facebook showing everyone saying:
“Do you SEE her images? Aren’t they the most beautiful things you have ever SEEN?