I am an orphan.

Seems strange to think of myself that way since I am in my mid 40’s, but I am.

My father died of cancer when I was 22 and my mom died from Leukemia when I was 33.

When parents are still alive it can be easy to take them for granted, a phone call, a family get together and conversations with them can swirl around old memories and stories. When they are gone, those memories begin to fade. Even the memory of how they looked throughout their life…it fades. After my parents died, I inherited some photographs.  The photographs have become the sole visual reminder of those times.  I love seeing images of my parents when they were young, before they were parents, I love the photos of when they were dating. The photos of them after I came about bring a sense of comfort and familiarity, the face I miss, the sparkling eyes, the head thrown back in laughter at her very last birthday celebration which causes me to remember that careless, throaty laugh my mom had.

There are candid shots, and professional portraits, I love every one.  

They all tell me the story of who my parents were as Pete and Jacqui, not just Dad and Mom.

Unfortunately, there are very few in existence of my parents and me.

There is the horrible family portrait from 1977, which I will not post because my sisters might disown me. I have about six photos of my dad and me…and probably about the same of my mom and me.

To be honest, this does bother me, and I think about my children and what tangible reminders they will have of me when I am gone.  How many times have I avoided a photo because I didn’t like how I looked that day, or I thought I was too overweight, or my hair was a mess? Probably too many.  After my mom died and I looked through my sad pile of photos that I have of her, I decided that I will take pictures with my kids as often as possible.

Do I always like how I look? No. There have been times in the past where I have looked at a photo of myself, and my inner critic kicked up to tell me where I am lacking.  Then, ten years later I see the same photo and wonder why I would think such mean things about myself.  And you know who has never said anything negative about a photograph that I am in? My kids. In fact, they will see a photo that I am not fond of and ask if they can keep it because they think I look beautiful.

 I’m sure my mom wouldn’t have loved this picture of herself. As for me? It’s my favorite! Me making a face at her as I sit on the bench with muddy knees, and her look of exasperation? Priceless. (I know the quality is bad on this one…I had never seen this until my older brother and his wife made a calendar with family photos and it was on it)

When my mom was going through treatment for Leukemia, she had a few good months after her stem cell transplant.  We had a family party; I had my camera, and I took selfies of us.

Again, priceless…she felt great this day, we had a wonderful time together and I can look back and remember this. Do I like how I look in them…no way, but guess what? When my kids are adults, and looking back and they see these photos of the grandmother they loved and their mom with purple hair…do you think they will notice my double chin? Maybe. Will they really care? Doubtful.

This is why I do Documentary Style Family Photography.  To capture my clients lives as they are living it with their children, in the joy, the chaos, the mess, the love.  I also find that this approach, where I use my years of experience as a photojournalist creates a less stressful atmosphere for family photographs.  I spend a few hours with my clients as they go about their lives, and I become invisible through the process.  I capture the real moments of these very short years for them, and then the images are placed into an heirloom quality custom made album for my clients to enjoy and to pass on through the generations.

I challenge you… book a photoshoot, get out your cameras, cell phone, whatever. Take pictures WITH your kids. Goofy ones, nice ones…have fun with it.  Document their childhood and their parents along with it.

It’s important.

Your kids need to see you and have a tangible way to remember.

Here are a few of my children and me.