The Long Goodbye
In 2005 my Dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. Eventually it claimed his body and his mind. Hard to watch—and harder to accept—in a man who lived his life out loud. I spent at least part of every visit over the next 13 years documenting our long goodbye. There were so many mile markers: life-altering falls, selling their house as finances grew tight, finally letting go of the pristine business shirts and suits that he finally accepted that he would never wear again. Over those 13 years, we watched him disappear, only to be replaced by a person none of us recognized.
In the summer of 2018, I went to help my Mom care for him after a small dental procedure. I planned to stay one week and ended up staying ten. Those ten weeks ended up being the last weeks of his life. Being there was the best decision I’ve ever made.
My camera helped me find the beauty, dignity and humanity in that difficult time. It helped me to look at the things no one wants to see. It gave a meaning and a purpose to the challenges and the suffering. It also helped us connect. Dad loved being my muse. He was open and honest in front of the camera to the very end. The photos and videos I took during that time are priceless—a reminder of the different kind of connection that love grew up between all of us at the end, and a testament to the raw beauty and humanity of life’s perfect imperfection.
