Featured Blog: How Do You Want To Be Remembered?

My mother was a beautiful woman with dramatic features that spoke to her heritage of Spanish, French and Mic Mac (Mi’kmaq). I wish I had inherited her looks rather than my father’s Scottish heritage. My pale Scottish skin doesn't like the sun.

However, as she aged, she didn’t want her photograph taken, unless she was given time to fix her hair or apply her lipstick. I remember her saying that when she looked in the mirror, she didn't recognize herself, as she felt like she was still in her 20s. Her lined face grew even more beautiful in my eyes. The lines spoke to me of a life lived with dignity but also one of having to stretch a dollar further than possible to care for eight children, difficult even for someone as skilled as my mother was in making us feel like we, her children, were from a well-to-do family. 

I got asked this past month to do an edit on a tiny photograph, 1-by-1-inch, as the person who died wouldn’t allow photos of him to be taken. I did the best I could with such a tiny scanned file, but it was substandard to say the least.

Over the years I have had many requests to enhance a photo or to restore one so they could put it on a bulletin-type board at the person’s wake.  As I was working on the photos, I often talked to the photograph—is this how you really want to be remembered? The photo sometimes showing a frozen expression that didn’t reveal anything about the life lived. 

I also got requests from people who wanted me to photograph them before they started their chemo treatments so they would have documentation of how they looked before their treatment took its toll. 

One such man stands out in my memory, as he was so brave in spite of his diagnosis. I photographed him and his wife in their yard, and the meeting of their eyes as they silently promised to be there for each other through one of life’s hardest challenges left me fighting tears I couldn't let them see. His wife used the photos at his memorial celebration to remind family and friends what he looked like before the disease took its toll. Rest in peace, Kevin.

Then I have in my photo archives photos of ill children.  These are photos where I edited out the tubes and IVs to make them look healthier than they were.  Precious photos that might replace the pictures in their parent’s mind of their children hooked up to machines. I also have photos of my very premature grandson who died at birth, but I haven’t been able to edit that shot yet, as I am too close to the sadness. I will one day.

We all have a choice to have photos taken as we age. I have shots that show a woman who is in her 70s and loved to knit, and that is how she would like to be remembered. Another woman in her 80s loved to cook, and I photographed her in her kitchen so her children and grandchildren would have a photo of her in her most beloved role.

A man who was a carpenter wanted to be photographed with his favorite tool, his father’s handsaw firmly grasped in his hand. He wanted to be remembered for the hobby he enjoyed, woodworking.

I have a photo of my mother out on my fishing boat with her at the wheel. I love that photo, as she was doing what she loved, being out on the ocean and fishing for cod, the type of fish she often cooked for us when we were young.

How do you want to be remembered when you die? Dying is a huge part of life, and thinking about this subject, and doing something, will save your family from searching through photos, giving them one less thing to so. Don’t turn away from the camera when someone wants to take your photo. You can also hire a photographer to chronicle your life by photographing you doing the things you love. A close up of your hands will be priceless once you are gone. 

I remember a photo of my mother’s hands I took when she was in her 70s, and today it is one of my favorite photos of my mother. A mother’s hands never really change in the same way her face does. I remember everything about her hands that cradled me, that held me as I cried, that changed a thousand diapers, cloth ones to boot, and held me as I faced some of the most difficult decisions in my life. Yes, they have a few sun spots, a few more wrinkles but they are familiar hands and I treasure that photo more than photos of her face.

Did you know there are photographers who volunteer their services to be there when a baby is born too early to survive? They take the photos of the parent(s) holding their baby as they say good-bye. Some of these photographers burn out quickly, but others take their place. It's so difficult to think of, but photography can be used as part of the healing process.

So to end this blog on a part of living that often goes unspoken, please consider what I have written. While it’s true that we never know when our time has come, those of us in our older years are especially aware that our days on this beautiful earth are numbered. Make a conscious decision to let your family and/or friends take your photo, or hire a photographer to take photos of the things you loved in life—cooking, carpentry, knitting, reading, writing, the list is endless.

The photos I am posting in conjunction with this blog are not all of people who asked me to document their end of life. One set of photographs is, as the family gave me permission to show them here. The other photos are just from my archives and weren’t taken for the specific intention of how they wanted to be remembered. I do have permission to use them, however.

If you get an idea from the photos I am including in this blog, good. Have your picture taken so your family and friends will have something to cherish, to remember the good times and bring them comfort after you are gone.