My father's cancer became untreatable by May of 2012. My mother wanted to care for him at home. And so we did--my mother, my sister, and me. These photos of his last few months are hard to look at, I know. But photographing him during that period of time saved me. It helped me to stay present, however painful these days were. They were not all sad days. Friends and family visited. And we sat around for long hours with my father. We were, I felt, on the last leg of the journey, walking him home.
My father, I believe, knew I was photographing him, though at some point, he was more there than here. My family did not seem to mind, either. I do not know why. At the very end, my father made a decision to stop eating and drinking. He was ready. He had made peace with this life and with us.
My father, I believe, knew I was photographing him, though at some point, he was more there than here. My family did not seem to mind, either. I do not know why. At the very end, my father made a decision to stop eating and drinking. He was ready. He had made peace with this life and with us.