Life is Precious…
My grandfather died in 2017. I was in the Dublin airport when I got the call that he was being taken off of life support. I collapsed in front of baggage claim as I said goodbye to one of the most loving, supportive and beautiful people I have ever known. I spent the rest of the day desperately collecting any photo and video and text I could from him to soak him in. All I found were posed photos of milestones and birthdays, and an anniversary or two. The one piece of him that I have that means the most to me is a video of him on the back porch, giggling as he recounted a story of himself playing a prank on a local police officer when he was in high school. It’s him. It’s him as I remember him in life. I watch that video still, years later, any time I miss him.
Life is precious. It’s strange how life can feel so big and endless when you’re in the middle of it. You’re always looking forward to the next thing and there will be a million next things. But then you blink, seasons change and people drift away or pass on. People change, they get older, they switch paths and you realize that the moments you thought were small - the everyday, in-between moments - were actually everything. I think about this a lot as a photographer, how easy it is to overlook those fleeting instances and how we wait for the “perfect” occasion to take pictures while we miss out on the imperfect beauty of life that is happening right in front of us.
So much of our memories are through photos. I know that when I look back on my own childhood or think of loved ones who are no longer here, I tend to land on memories that have photos that go with them. I also often find myself searching for something more. I will forget the way that someone used to laugh when they were tired, the way they danced in the kitchen or the loving look they would give their partner when they told a bad joke. You think you’ll remember the way your child’s hair curls up around their temples right after a bath, or the lines on a loved one’s face when they belly laugh, but those details blur with time. And when all you have left are pictures, the ones that everyone is smiling for and dressed their best, you realize how precious those everyday snapshots become.
That’s why I love documentary-style photography. It’s not about perfect poses, it’s about life. Messy, beautiful, quiet moments that you will want to remember when the years have slipped by. It’s a way to preserve life, stop time and hold onto real moments. I adore people. Maybe it’s my years of film school or my nearly decade working as a nanny, I love the little ways that people just are. They way they exist, the unique life and face and sounds that everyone has. Everyone deserves to be honored and remember for exactly who they are in the world.
I’m so grateful for the love in my life, for the people in it and for my own existence. I wish I had photos of my family and I having breakfast on the weekends when I was in high school because I forget what it was like. I remember my graduation party. And that was fun. But I forget breakfast with my family. I wish I had more photos of me with my siblings when they were little. I have photos of us out at festivals and at graduations, but no photos of us playing The Floor is Lava. I’m starting to forget. And life is fleeting. And life is precious. And time moves quickly.
