My Dad is a consummate documentarian. This has always been part of his artistic expression. His photo albums, since his teenage years, are detailed accounts of his life and adventures.
I promised him to keep taking photos during this final chapter. Dad is winding down now. Dad’s breathing continues, slow, deep, intermittent. He is surrounded by love.
I spent a quiet evening by myself with Dad last night, cleaning his room, reading a Swedish children’s book to him and, as he asked, taking photos. I get it. It feels empowering to strip away the filter of fear and truly SEE the beauty of the journey.
See also:
Healing sock monkey watching over Dad
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