A reflection in a photo with words.
After first finding out he had Alzheimer’s we were sitting in a small restaurant looking over the menu. We had a clear view out the glass door to the bank entrance across the street. He came out down the 2 steps and hesitated looking first to his right then left. His hesitation continued. She started to rise when he looked straight ahead. Recovering his bearings, he strode across the street towards his family hidden within.
He had always been a big strong man. Although he spent his weekdays behind a desk the weekends were always working on his farm. He could take your hand in his and you could feel the strength, the tenderness. In his final year, it was difficult to see the gaunt face the slight body and the glazed eyes as the disease began devouring his essence.
The very last time I saw him was in a home. A coded entry behind a wall of glass. How does a man who loved the outdoors, being active in it, how does he survive a cage no matter how kind and generous the keepers are? I knew in my heart he wouldn’t last 3 months. Looking back, I saw him waving goodbye like a lost child. We stepped outside, shared a group hug while tears streamed down our faces in the afternoon sun.
In less than a month, he was free.
Combining photographs and words can be very powerful. A dying flower for me contains a beauty, a deep message. The man I’m referring to is my father who passed away several years ago. Death is sad and yet there’s an opportunity to celebrate a life, a brilliance contained within the last colour found in a passing bloom…