Tribute to my dad

Photography means a lot of different things to different people. To my father, it was his life. He wanted his children to share that passion. One child did, my brother, who had taken photography like a duck takes to water. But my dad had his sights dead set on another child, me. I was into all things artistic then except for photography.

He had his wish of having one of his daughters take photography only when his health started to fail. There were weddings to shoot and my brother was in another country so that left me with no other choice.

He had managed to instill that love for photography in the few short years we had as photographer and assistant and as fierce competitors (as to whose photographs the newlyweds will choose to enlarge and had most images taken included in the album).

But five years ago, he passed away. We had a wedding scheduled the month he died and all I could say then was, "Who's gonna be with me in that wedding?"

I want to remember my father when he was at his happiest moments - taking pictures, clowning around, showing off his Nikons, talking with other photographers, the list is endless! They were all related to photography and I am glad he had shared it with me. I may not approximate the passion he had but I can say it's also my life now and my legacy.

The Living Years
Mike and the Mechanics

Every generation
Blames the one before
And all of their frustrations
Come beating on your door

I know that I'm a prisoner
To all my father held so dear
I know that I'm a hostage
To all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper
Filled with imperfect thought
Stilted conversations
I'm afraid that's all we've got

You say you just don't see it
He says it's perfect sense
You just cant get agreement
In this present tense
We all talk a different language
Talking in defense

Say it loud, say it clear
You can listen as well as you hear
Its too late when we die
To admit we don't see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel
Between the present and the past
We only sacrifice the future
Its the bitterness that lasts

So don't yield to the fortunes
You sometimes see as fate
It may have a new perspective
On a different day
And if you don't give up, and don't give in
You may just be o.k.

I wasn't there that morning
When my father passed away
I didn't get to tell him
All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit
Later that same year
I'm sure I heard his echo
In my baby's new born tears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGDA0Hecw1k