The Photographic Journey Part Four

I've said many times since Tom died that Zora saved my life.  She was the only reason I got out of bed the next morning, and every morning after.  She couldn't lose both her daddy and her mama.  She needed me.  And I needed her. She has made it her mission to protect me, to take over for her daddy.  She has taken her responsibility very seriously and done it very well.  I wanted to honor her and do a photo session--a professional one since she isn't a big fan of Mom behind the camera.  Zora's walker had told me about a photographer who does amazing pet photography and I had been following her page on FB.  I loved her work and reached out to her to talk about a shoot. I told her I wanted to capture the many personalities of Zora and our interaction together.  Barbara had us come over to her studio to talk and to see how comfortable Zora was in the environment with the lights and camera.  Zee was a trooper and did great.  We scheduled a date, which we had to reschedule at the last minute.  Then a coveted Saturday date opened up and I jumped at it.

So on a Saturday evening Zora and I jumped in the car and made our way over to the East Bay spending way too much time sitting on 37.  Once we arrived Zora quickly set about checking out the space which was all set up and ready for her.  We started the shoot and Zora did great. She listened well, did as she was asked and was easy to bribe with Charley Bears.  Barbara said that Zora was part of the 1% of dogs who get to be in the studio without a leash.  After we finished in the studio we headed to a local park for outside shots with both of us.  I was much more comfortable in front of the camera this time.  The photographer said she should send all of her clients for their goddess shots before coming to see her.  I was easy to direct and she could focus on the dog. Again Zora did great, even with all of the new smells.Barbara noted that Zora wouldn't take her eyes off of me.  When we are at home she either ignores me or runs away because she thinks I'm going to do something to her ears or her toenails.  I didn't realize how much she focused on me until we had this experience.  I saw a few of the shots in the camera and they looked fabulous. After two hours of shooting we got back in the car and Zora conked out--she was exhausted.  I was so very proud of her and how well she did.  And I found the experience with her bonding.

A week later I received the proofs.  They were awesome.  And it was so amazing to see how much Zora kept looking at me.  The photos of us together were so sweet and loving, you can see the connection.  And the studio photos of Zee were great.

The first finalized photo is so dramatic.  As I was reviewing the images with Barbara, she described what she saw in this image as this "What I see in this image is a devoted pup looking so lovingly at her Mom who is recovering from her horrible loss and has begun to spread her wings in a life affirming and sassy way! Sniff...."   I fell in love with the image in an entirely new way.  Remember, one of the things that I wanted from this journey was to see how others see me.  

The Photographic Journey Part Three

Four weeks can go by so slowly when you are waiting for something you want.  My wedding anniversary was approaching and I was hoping to get at least the images in my wedding dress in time for my anniversary. I was anxiously checking my email awaiting notification that the images were ready.  And then on a Saturday evening, the email arrived.  Heidi had told me to look at the images on the biggest screen available and to not review them on my phone.  I found it interesting that I was nervous about looking at them.  I was afraid I would be disappointed, that these fabulous photographers would somehow fail when it came to making me look good.  I put off looking at the images.  I made myself a lovely dinner.  Then I figured out a way to hook my laptop up to my television.  It was time for the reveal. The first image came up.  Wait, what?  Who is that?  That couldn't possibly be me.  Wow.  I continued to scroll through the images, amazed at each one.  And then this photo appeared.

It took my breath away.  It was amazing!  It so clearly conveyed a story, the story I wanted to tell, of love and loss and beauty and grief and memories and beauty within tragedy and power.  It was all of those things and more.  I was stunned.  And I was stunned that I could use the word stunning about any image of me.  I scrolled through the images again, and again and again.  I went to bed with so many thoughts running around in my head.  I woke up the next morning and looked at them all again.  Do I really look like that?

Or this?

Or this?

Who is this person?

I certainly wasn't disappointed in the images,  I was awestruck. The outsides look fabulous.  But what I really noticed is that these pictures reflected my insides, my spirit.  I could see me, different sides of me, different looks of me.  When I look at the series of selfies I've taken, they all look alike--same head tilt, same smile, same angle.  I edit the picture that I put forth to the world.  We all do, we see ourselves as one dimensional when we self-edit.  We criticize everything we don't like about ourselves and nit pick every imperfection in each of our photos.  In an unusual twist, these photographers do not give you all of the proofs to look  at then choose the ones that you like for further editing.  They make the selection, do the editing and then send them on to you.  It is a scary thing to put one's trust in others to choose, it limits one's ability to self edit and reinforce the self perception that one puts out into the world.  But I put my trust into the process and I wasn't disappointed.  As a photographer I know that when I review images after a shoot, there are ones that grab my attention and those are the ones I focus on.  It was an act of faith to let the control go.  And it was very freeing because it took the responsibility off of me to decide.

About a week later I shared my photos and the story in the FB widows' group that I have been a part of for almost five years.  I received lots of compliments but that really wasn't the point.  What struck me is how some women viewed themselves in such a negative light.  They, like many women, have negative self talk in their heads. They also have survived tragic and devastating loss which further impacts their self image.  It sparked something in me.  I'm not sure exactly what to do with the thoughts.  One thing I do know, the process of going through the first two shoots has been transformative.

And there are two more to go.

Photo Credit: In Her Image Photography

The Photographic Journey Part Two

Preparation for a photo shoot is a process.  There are decisions to be made about clothes.  What is the image one wants to project?  What photographs well?  What looks good on my body?  What colors look good on camera and against the skin and the backdrop.  And what jewelry to wear with outfits?  What about shoes?  Will they be seen in the shot?  And then there is hair and make-up?  Do my own?  Hire a professional?  Decisions. Decisions.

I had learned that when doing a photo shoot you need a lot more make-up than one would normally wear because the lights and camera absorb it.  What would seem in the mirror to be the amount of make-up a hooker would put on before heading out to work, looks like you've barely put on enough make-up to define the fact that you have eyes and lips.  During the previous week I did a dry run.  I tried on different outfits to see how they would look and fit and if they would look good on camera.  Its a deal.  There is a reason people hire stylists.

The morning of first photo shoot dawned.  It was August and it was warm.  The photographer was going to come to my house to do the head shot and then we were going to head outside.  I had spent way to much time doing my hair and make-up.  I had decided to do my own for the first photo shoot.  I was ready.  Selfie to start.

Selfie before the first shoot

I was nervous, after all, I'm used to being behind the camera.  Dennis, the photographer arrived and set up.  We did the test shots.  I was so uncomfortable.  I felt stiff, I looked stiff.  I was worried about how I looked and how I was smiling.  I was doing a lot of negative head talk.  It showed.  We finished the head shot and then headed to downtown to do some outdoor shots.  It was hot out.  And I was still uncomfortable.  There was a lot of snapping going on but, truth be told, I was literally a hot mess.  It was so warm that we called it a day and Dennis agreed to finish up a few days later.  I could see in the photos that I was really not having a good time.

Day One 

Day One 

There were several more shots taken after these.  The photographer didn't even show them to me.  They were that bad.

Two days later I was scheduled for my goddess photo shoot (not the word I would use about myself, but it works).  I had my outfits picked out and I had booked professional hair and make-up.  In my prep sessions with the photographer I told her that I wanted to do a shoot in my wedding dress--my 25th wedding anniversary was coming up and I loved my dress and I wanted to honor the day.  She was so supportive of the idea.  So on Saturday I loaded up all of my stuff and headed up to the studio.  I met the make-up artist and was glammed up.  All the while with the negative self talk--I'm too old, my eyelashes had almost disappeared because of the medication I had been on, my jawline was slack, blah blah blah . . .  She was wonderful and she did a great job--I looked almost presentable.

Ready for the Shoot with Elise the Magician

The photographers arrived and I felt so unworthy and insignificant until we started to interact.  When we first started we did a lot of talking, they asked about things I liked, anything to get the conversation going and get me comfortable.  As we talked, Heidi would give me directions on how to pose and Tara would assist with lighting and wind.  We would laugh and talk and then I'd be in a different pose--sometimes I felt like a contortionist.  We joked that it wasn't good unless it hurt.  I now have an entirely new respect for models.  After the first outfit change we jumped in the car and headed out to a park where more photos were taken.  A quick clothing change in the car and it was round three.  We headed back to the studio and did the last outfit before it was time to put on my wedding dress.  I had a vision in my head what I wanted and I shared it with Heidi and Tara.  I was asked what song would be appropriate to the vignette.  I chose "Color My World" by Chicago.  It was the only song that Tom sang with the band and he would always dedicate it to me.  It was followed by several other tunes by Chicago.  Tara was working the lights and the fan.  I looked over at her and I saw that she was tearing up.  Heidi then asked me what my favorite dance song was--"Uptown Funk"  She told me to get up and dance.  How often do you get to dance in your wedding dress again?  I remember how much fun it was to dance in at my wedding.  By the time we were done for the day I felt so different.  I felt confident and comfortable and mentally and physically exhausted. I don't know how to describe it, but the day was an event, a transformative one.  I would not see the images for another month.  It was going to be a long wait.

The next day I had the follow-up shoot scheduled with the first photographer.  I slept in the makeup since it was so awesome. It held up well overnight. I should always look this good in the morning.

Makeup Survives the Night

It was going to be another hot day and I really didn't want to be a hot mess again, but it looked likely.  I changed into my outfit and waited for Dennis to arrive.  We did the first several shots in my house.  I wanted to stay cool.  He didn't have lights with him, so we worked with reflectors and he took some interesting shots.  It was different this time, I was so much more comfortable in my body, how to position it, and in following direction.  The pictures showed that I was more relaxed.  We headed over to the bridge over the creek in the valley for some outdoor shots.  It was really hot out, but we were able to get some work done and we wrapped it up.  I had images within a few days.  I was happy with them.  I could see the difference from a few days earlier.

            

I was half way through my plan.

The Photographic Journey Part One

Transformation comes from the darnedest places in the most unexpected ways.  Sometime in August I had a niggling idea to do a utilitarian photo shoot.  I needed a new head shot.  And I needed some decent photos to enter the online dating world.  Selfies only take you so far.

May 2019

June 2018 before Widow Sister Wedding

April 2019

So I decided I would do it, and the idea started to expand.  I wanted to showcase who I was now.  How do I do that?  What things do I represent?  There is me, my motorcycle, my dog, my professional life and my casual side.  I researched photographers and found one that looked like a good fit.  I scheduled a date for the first shoot.  I shared about my idea on one of my FB widow's group.  One member reached out to her photography group and provided me a lead for two other local photographers who would be interested in working with me.  What started out as a pretty utilitarian idea started to morph into something else.  I realized it was a stretch to expect one photographer to accomplish all things.  I decided to reach out to different photographers, matching their best skills to what I envisioned.  One of the photographers that was referred to me from my FB widow sister happened to be in nearby Petaluma.  I checked out their website and was blown away at what I saw, their passion to help women find their inner Goddess.  I knew these were photographers with whom I wanted to work.  I also knew of a pet photographer that did amazing work.  And a friend who is finding her footing in photography and a motorcycle rider seems like a good fit for the motorcycle shoot.  An overall plan started to take shape.  And then it started to happen . . .

Self doubt.  So much self doubt.  The rationalization of why I would do this.  Its a lot of money to spend on a luxury.  And how vain is it to want to have pictures taken of you?  I had lots of good reasons to do this.  First of all, I've had a good year work wise and there is a little bit of extra money.  I needed a new headshot for business.  And then there's that whole dating thing, a thing that I find embarrassing to talk about it.  In my mind I believe everyone is wondering who would want to go out with me?  Who do I think I am to hope for a second great love in my life after having such a wonderful husband.  Shouldn't that be enough?  Oh, and I've lost about 14 stone over the last year and half (do the math on that one).  And let's not forget the piece de résistance--in the last five years I've survived Tom's diagnosis, illness, death, two cataract surgeries, numerous heart tests, two heart surgeries and constrictive pericarditis.  Wow.  A Lot. I survived.  Its not the typical milestone event like graduation, engagement, weddings, children, etc.  Widowhood is its own unique milestone and not one to be celebrated.  Surviving and thriving, perhaps.  Finally a good friend told me to stop justifying my desire to do it.  It wasn't necessary and I didn't need any one's permission.  That's why we have friends.  To state the obvious and push you in the direction you want to go.

The story started to change for me.  Besides the obvious reasons, I am in still in the place of rebuilding my life, trying to figure out who I am now and who I want to be.  And one of the keys to that, for me, is seeing myself through other people's eyes.  Which is not the same as seeking other people's approval or compliments.  We only see ourselves through the mirror or in photos.  In this age of selfies, we self edit what we put out into the world so that it is in alignment with how we see ourselves.  It can be very limiting to our self perception.

So the journey has begun.

The Wedding Dress

Many little girls dream about their wedding day, marrying their Prince Charming and most importantly, their wedding dress.  I was one of those little girls.  I was engaged when I was 19 and fell in love with a wedding dress that I hoped to wear.  It was simple for the time, a soft jersey with an empire waist, A-line.  It had a high neck with beading which continued down to a placket.  It also had long sleeves.  No lace.  It was simple, like how I perceived myself at the time.  That wedding never happened.  I never had the chance to try on a wedding dress.

Fast forward seventeen years to when Tom and I were engaged.  An important part of the wedding planning is finding just the right dress.  I started shopping nine months before the wedding.  My mom didn't live locally so my shopping buddy was my bestie Mary Beth.  I went shopping with her six years earlier for her gown.  We went to the standard bridal places and since they only stocked tiny sample sizes, I was never able to try on a gown.  Mary Beth was my personal mannequin.  But nothing we saw came even close to what I thought I wanted, even though I didn't even know what that was.  I was a bride in my mid-30s (considered old in the 90s) and most thought the appropriate dress would be a pale pink fitted suit.  That wasn't what I wanted.  I also preferred more tailored clothes back in the day so I wanted something more subdued.

On a cold December Friday afternoon, Mary Beth and I drove down to Orland Park, a suburb about 40 miles southwest of Chicago.  In that little town was a bridal salon that represented a local designer, Jon Bradley.  We didn't know it when we made the appointment but the owner of the salon, Andrea, was the same woman who was the salesperson who helped Mary Beth when she purchased her gown. Her headpiece was also a Jon Bradley design.

When asked what I was looking for, I could only describe what I didn't want--something that looked like a 20 year old would wear.  I wanted something that fit my personality.  Andrea brought out several beautiful samples, fabulous one-of-a-kind gowns that Mary Beth modeled for me.  They were all beautiful.  But nothing was speaking to me.  I was worried that I wouldn't find one.  Andrea gave me a sideways gaze and said she had one more, it was from the previous year's collection so the sample was a little beat up.  Perhaps I'd like to look at it.  When she pulled it out of bag, Mary Beth and I looked at each other and just knew.  As I held it up in front of me in the mirror, the Hallelujah Chorus started to play on the radio.  It was the song we were using as our recessional.  It was my dress. I looked at Mary Beth.  She had tears in her eyes.

Since the cost of the dress was above the budget I felt that I had to discuss it with Tom before committing that much money (it was a lot).  I worked with Andrea to make some modifications to bring the cost down, but it was still a lot.  Tom, in his usual fashion said, "If its what you want, you deserve it.  Get it."  And I did.  I love the dress.  We used to joke that it cost so much we should just stuff it and use it as a couch.  Tom said it was so big that he would need a hand truck to move it.

It was so much fun to wear and to dance in.  It was also a challenge to maneuver in.  But I loved it.  I still love it.  After the wedding I had it cleaned and stored it in the closet.  I would put it on occasionally for the sheer joy of wearing it.  I had a special area of our closet designed to hold it.  I had always hoped that we would be able to have a renewal of our vows and I would get to wear the dress again.

Two years ago I did a photo shoot of the dress on our anniversary.  I noticed, for the first time, that the detail on the trim was a rose.  A rose.  I had the dress for over 20 years.  I adored the dress and I didn't realize until 2017 that the trim was a rose.  Talk about not being observant.  Geez.

On the occasion of our 25th wedding anniversary I wanted to honor the day and wear the dress.  It was to be a prop in documenting what it feels like to be a widow on such a milestone.  And that's what I did.  I tried the dress on and it was too big.  I had to have it taken in.  Not something the seamstress had heard very often--a twenty-five year old dress that need to be taken in, not let out.

The dress holds the energy of that day.  And the memories.  It is precious to me.  And it is still just as gorgeous.  Perhaps not as timely, but gorgeous just the same.  Its 90s big. And its me. And us.

On the Occassion of our Twenty-fifth Wedding Anniversary

Tuesday September 24, 2019 will be the twenty-fifth anniversary of the day we married.  It is an auspicious day, both joyful and deeply sad.  It marks the day, that day, twenty-five years ago, that we united in marriage.  A marriage that brought us both incredible love and joy and commitment and humor and devotion.  A marriage that at times humbled us to our knees with human frailties and lifted our hearts to incredible joy.  A marriage that was a spiritual journey for each of us as individuals and both of us as a couple.  A marriage that taught us what it means to be really committed to another human being, how to love deeply and accept each others' shortcomings even when those shortcomings drove us to distraction and frustration.  It was a marriage that ended far too soon, after only twenty years on the physical plane.

I always wanted to be married.  I was engaged when I was 19 to my first love.  My parents divorced the next year and things did not go well for the next decade or so on the relationship front.  Tom had been married and divorced.  I met him about a year after his divorce and he was still deeply hurt.  He said he never wanted to marry again.  I had to chase him until he caught me.  We were together for six years before he was ready to try again.  The one thing I know is that he never regretted taking the plunge again and that he believed it was the best thing he ever did.

I am so saddened about this milestone.  And angry that we didn't get to twenty-five.  I feel cheated.  It isn't fair.  I think that goes without saying.

I wanted to mark this occasion.  To honor the day, the beauty of it and the sorrow it now holds.  I still have my wedding dress.  I LOVE my wedding dress.  I had a photo shoot done with it,  The photo captures exactly what I wanted to show.  The beauty and the sadness, the loneliness, importance.

The day we married it was raining.  In fact, it was raining for the entire week prior to our wedding.  And we had planned an outdoor wedding.  Fortunately we had a plan B, moving the ceremony and the reception inside.   The Redfield Center at the Grove, designed by George Elmslie, a follower of Louis Sullivan, was a architectural gem for our intimate wedding.

I think I remember every moment of that day, and what I have forgotten can be recalled by our wedding video or any of the many photographs taken.  My father, who had waffled at coming to our wedding, did not attend the rehearsal the day before.  My sister-in-law urged me not to worry about the situation.  I told her I was getting married no matter what.  My parents both came to the wedding and were cordial to each other, it was the first time they had seen each other since they divorced eighteen years before.  I remember seeing Tom's face as I walked down the aisle.  I felt so loved, by my family, our friends and most of all, the man that I was marrying.  It was a beautiful wedding.  And as we left that evening, the rain had ended, the moon had come out and there was a low ground fog over the meadow in front of the house.  They say rain on your wedding day is a sign of good luck. One source says it signifies the cleansing of tough times or sadness in your past. True for me  Another source indicates it is because it symbolizes the last tears that the bride will shed for the rest of her life.  I don't know about that.  I've cried gallons of tears before Tom's death and particularly after.  We had a happy marriage, built daily by the minutia of life.

The 24th is a special day--a day I will always remember.

Turning the Corner . . .Or is that an oncoming train?

There are moments when it takes my breath away when I realize how much grief and loss have demanded of me, and how much is continued to be asked of me.  I look backwards four and half years and am amazed that I am still standing.  I've proclaimed mightily how hard I've worked to recover, and it is true.  It has taken everything that I have to get this far but unfortunately the damage from the loss is more than emotional, but incredibly physical as well, something I was not expecting.  The last year and a half I've had to deal with aFib (brought on by the stress of the loss), and a surgery to treat the aFib.  I had made the commitment to stay in our home and to update it last fall, which I did.  But then I developed a late onset rare complication from that surgery.  Two and half months to get a diagnosis (the physicians in the practice had never seen this complication in my type of surgery).  I was pretty ill.  I kept soldiering on, doing the best I could to work and live life, but there was nothing left in the tank.  I missed the holidays with my family.  The treatment is long and the pace of improvement has been glacial.  Two months into treatment and I was feeling like it would never ever get better.  My doctor reminded me that it was a long treatment and improvement would be slow, but after being ill for four months, it felt like it would never get better.  I kept hoping that one day I would wake up and feel better, a lot better.  But it didn't happen.

And then, last week, I had a long busy week.  I did my best to parse my energy to get through a 60 hour work week, which a month before would not have been possible.  I realized I felt better, I had more stamina.  And although I was worn out after that long week, I wasn't debilitated.  I could breath better.  I'm not fully recovered, and that will probably take a lot more time.  I didn't realize how ill I was until I started to feel a little more like myself.  I also acknowledged that I have just passed through the most difficult weeks of the year for me, the anniversary of Tom's death followed closely by my birthday--both accompanied by a lovely cold.  There is a heaviness to those days, and it was a difficult anniversary this year.  In the last month I finally turned off Tom's cell phone and his car has been rehomed with our nephew.  Two emotional steps.  I feel like I've cleared the decks, that I'm ready to move forward in an entirely different way.  I no longer want to talk about how far I've come (no promises there, though), I want to live how far I've come--and how far I may go.

As I was driving home on Friday night and the thought occurred to me, actually it was a sense of knowing, that the very best of my life is yet to come.  It is an awesome feeling, knowing. The person that I want to most share this with, who would be happiest for me, is Tom.  There is no doubt that he is beaming and saying "that's my girl."