Nothing can prepare you for the death of a loved one. As much as you think you’ll be “ready”, given whatever circumstance surrounding it, it will still knock you down. Death changes you. It makes you more stoic. More reflective. More thankful. More graceful. More humble. At the end of someone’s life, we think about their time spent and look to remember them in the happiest of ways.
But when a young person is taken from us, all of that goes out the window and our first reaction is usually to blame God. We take our pain and lash out at the easiest target. We say things like, “If there was a God, He wouldn’t let things like this happen.” And we slip further away from any shred of faith that we had to begin with.
My best friend’s brother is dying.
He is 33.
He has a 3 year old child.
He will leave behind his daughter, two sisters, his mom and dad, a nephew & niece, a brother-in-law, countless aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmothers, and friends.
The question of the hour is always – why? We scour to seek out all of the details. We simply refuse to believe until we find something….anything….to give us the answer. Up until now, I was that person that needed to know every last detail. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that a book of life is about to come to a close.
While visiting him on Sunday, he asked me if I’d be willing to take some photos of he and his daughter. And of course, I said yes — who am I to deny this man something precious in his final days? And then I went home and had a melt down. How could I possibly take beautiful photos in a hospital room, with a dying man and his tiny daughter? How could I take pictures of the end of his life? How could I show these to his family and hope that they would be “ok” with these as memories? How could I capture love in the midst of tragedy? Would I be able to keep myself together and approach this professionally? What if the photos end up hurting his family (who are my family) instead of giving them something positive? I couldn’t find any answers and the day was here. I turned on the camera and started. I pushed the button and with every beep of the auto-focus, I felt my heart breaking. So I turned off the sound indicator and kept going. It didn’t take long until I felt myself settle. I moved around, looking through the lens, finding opportunity in small gestures. I silently guided people into place and found light in just the right places.
There was a moment when the realization of what was taking place hit him…..and he started to cry. This whole deal is raw. The time lost. The situation. The time of year. So I allowed one tear to escape my eye. You can try to be professional. You can keep your game face on. You can pretend that you’re doing something important. But sometimes, showing your humanity is more important. To share in someone’s grief is sometimes the best way to show your love for them…….it lets them know that they’re not alone.
At the end of the night, I dropped off my best friend at her car and started the drive home, memory card full. I don’t remember the drive. I don’t remember hearing the words of the worship songs that I deliberately queued up to try and ease my spirit. I don’t remember if I drove the speed limit or not. I just felt empty. Shattered. My plan was to work on the photos when I got home….because we don’t know how long he’ll be with us — and I’d promised him that today, he’d wake up to photos on his phone. But I couldn’t. So I waited until this morning and sat down to start editing. Over 750 pictures taken, whittled down to 130 that I thought were appropriate. I decided to turn them black and white. I guess part of me felt too raw to leave them in color — that by taking the color away, maybe I’d take some of the hurt away. While I see the positive outcome in that decision, it also made the photos very raw…something I hadn’t expected. It’s like skipping ahead and reading the last pages of a really good book. There’s a finality present, in the absence of color.
Through the sifting, the story emerged. And in the midst of all of the conflict of my own emotion, all I see now, is love. Heartbreaking, soul-shattering, love.
12 A.M. Truths 