My dad’s journey through illness was a series of ups and downs that reshaped how I see time, family, and the quiet power of photographs. These photos were harder to take. It felt almost wrong at first - to document something so fragile, so raw. Something inside me said, "just take the photos, just in case, just for something to look back on and show him what he went though, what we went through and what he recovered from." But in the back of my mind I knew these may be our last and photos of a journey no one wanted to go on. Now these are some of the most important images we have. Not because they are easy to look at, but because they tell the truth. They show love in its most steadfast form: family standing close, hands resting on shoulders, silent promises that he wasn’t alone.
This gallery only shows a small part of the journey. The ups and downs were unending.
Initial ER visit - admitted to the hospital
Several day stay with slow improvement - appearing to be on the mend
Worse call of my life - taken to the ICU put on a ventilator
Days of slow improvement with much uncertainty
Ventilator out!! Praise God!
Stable, slow improvement
Shock - they cut off his beard - CUT OFF HIS BEARD! No good reason, no approval. They took from him, from us, his identity. No words can even express those feelings.
Improvements stop - put on hospice
Vast improvement - like his old self again - taken off hospice
Just kidding - decline, no hope for recovery
Back on hospice - sent home.
Nothing has been the same ever since.
I post this for my own grieving, coping, healing process. But also to show that photos truly do mean something and something great.
They become proof.
Proof that he was here.
So here is your sign: book your photo session, don't wait for the right time - it may never come.