I’ve sat down to write this post multiple times over the past year, and never quite get it out. It’s more personal than practical, (in part) why I do what I do, and why I think it is so important for you to be in pictures, especially with your children.

Christmas Day in 2016, there were about 2 hours where my parents, my sister’s family, my brother’s family, and my family would be at the same place at the same time. We always seemed to be missing one person. We wanted family pictures because my family was moving to Hawaii for three years four days after Christmas, but I assumed there wouldn’t be anyone willing to come to us on Christmas to do that for us. My dad had a friend who building a portfolio and willing to come and take pictures of our family.

I wasn’t a photographer yet, but I remember being so grateful to have a group shot of us all together. There were 16 of us at the time, and I was about 10 weeks pregnant with Maeve. A couple of weeks after being on island, I received the gallery of images. I think we were still living in a hotel. Again….so grateful

About two weeks after that…and 4 days after getting our home goods…I got a call from my mom that my dad had died. His death was unexpected and if I’m honest a little traumatic. He was only 56. I figured we had at least another 20 years with him.

The memories after that are swirly, if that makes sense. I was stuck on an island unable to do anything. We weren’t settled in our house. I was pregnant with Maeve and hadn’t gotten set up with a doctor yet. I only knew one or two people on the island, and we had to get the six of us back to North Carolina.

Sparing you the details, it took a couple of days, but we managed to get a redeye flight and landed in NC (with four young children) and hit the ground running with my mom and siblings to complete the preparations for my dad’s funeral. The funeral director asked for pictures to create a slide show. We asked for family members to send us some of their favorites to include it in the slide show.

Pictures came from everywhere. Many pictures I had never seen. Some pictures I was in and immediately took me back to my childhood that I other wise had forgotten. My grandmother valued pictures, and I’m so grateful she did.

In an effort to distract myself, I tasked myself with creating four large frames with chicken wire to pin pictures of my dad’s life that would be up during the visitation and the funeral. It was a little tedious making sure pictures were secure and meticulously placed. I remember it kept my hands and mind busy, and I really didn't want it to end.

The whole thing was a bit cathartic. As I pinned the last picture that lump formed in my throat. Cleaning up the project and trying to remain distracted, I began moving faster and faster. My aunt happened to be in the kitchen where I was working, and she saw what was happening. She hugged me and the flood gates opened.

There would be no more pictures of my dad. What we have is all we will ever have.

The four frames were on easels at the visitation. So many people came that evening and many of them stopped and admired the pictures. Often it lead to questions about his life or it sparked a memory that they could then share with me

Of course there were tears that evening, but there were smiles and laughter as everyone reminisced about my dad. Pictures elevated those memories for those reliving them. It gave a visual aid to the person hearing the story for the first time.

Childhood pictures of my dad confirmed how much my Simon looks like him. Seeing my dad as a teen gave me a glimpse of what Simon may look like in a decade or so. Maeve will never meet her Pop-Pop. Becket probably doesn’t remember him either, but I can share pictures and stories of him with all of my kids.

I didn’t expect to process so much grief in my thirties. I still have a lot of healing to do even six years later. I’m left with only a few things, a crocheted doily he made, a Carolina Panthers blanket, and pictures.

The value of pictures grow with time. After my dad passed away, I no longer took pictures for only myself. I took pictures for my kids and their potential kids. I had Maeve about six months after my dad passed away, and two weeks after having her I picked up my camera to begin learning how to use it. (But that’s another story.)

Not every picture has to be a portrait.

But I want my kids to have pictures if they need them, like I do, to grieve. I want them to remember what it felt like to be a kid in my arms, and how deeply loved they are. I want them to see their childhood from a new perspective as an adult, and to share their childhood with their children.

Pictures do that.