The Healing Process.

“Here I am again

Back on the corner again

Back where I belong

Where I've always been

Everything the same

It don't ever change

I'm back on the corner again

In the healing game.”

When we get a deep cut or wound, it takes time to heal. Whether it happens at the playground, a relationship gone bad, or the death of a loved one, eventually you have to build yourself back up. It just takes time, tears, and wondering what would happen if we could have changed the course of time?

Recently, I had the good fortune of photographing a family without realizing how much I would heal from what my trusty Nikon captured. It was a very personal shoot, so there is no way I am going to discuss names or provide any insight on the family who honored me with the opportunity to take their photos.

By design, it was a very happy occasion. The celebration of a monumental birthday; okay, I am well past that birthday, and in the end, you realize that there is a lot of life still ahead after a long road travelled. 

It was the other spectrum of the shoot that scared the crap out of me.

As it turns out, there were other family members who were going to have their photos taken; family members had congregated to celebrate, and on the flip side, to heal over the loss of a family member who left way too soon. I was told before the shoot, “Mark, one person would like to hold a photo of their loved one during the photo shoot.” I was more than fine with it, but suddenly this took on a much greater level of importance than your average picture-taking event.

When I arrived, I saw the mother holding the picture; it was a close up (in a frame) of a young man. He was looking at me. I felt him saying, “Don’t blow this one buddy!” I went up and introduced my self to everyone who was there—I was expecting a much smaller number, and when I met the mother, I went up and said, “I am very sorry for you loss…today, we’re going to bring some magic back into your life.” What the hell was I thinking to say that?

The shoot was really enjoyable; I was able to connect with everyone in what could have been a very difficult situation. It was not what I did, it’s what the family allowed me to do; it took a lot of guts and trust to let me into their lives. I am so glad they did.

Move forward a month or so (as in yesterday) and I receive a note from the woman who hired me. I have known her for some time and they are a really nice family. It also happens her husband has a very special name that resonates with my growing up in St. Louis. 

She provided insight on the effect the photo shoot had on the Mom, Dad, and sister who had lost their loved one. I had actually just landed at Midway and was heading to the gate when I read it. It was so thoughtful I started to cry; I was not prepared for what she shared. Her words, and description of how the shell had cracked open and let a grieving family emerge from the darkest nightmare of their lives, made me realize how important the capturing of a moment can be for someone who just needs to re-open the door to life.

Today happens to be the 6th Anniversary of the passing of my Mom. It has gone fast, yet it has dragged on in many respects; but all in all, thinking and visiting her when I am in St. Louis, has allowed me to grow again. I know she is safe and in peace.

The photo above was taken in Colorado this fall; amidst all the fall colors, I stood under beautiful yellow leaves to capture the stunning beauty the scene offered. It was not until I converted it to black and white that I realized how much adding color to something makes life real again.

I love and miss you Mom!

Thanks for stopping by.