of lace and pollyanna

Once upon a time, I used to take photos of the light coming through the lace curtains in the bathroom at my grandma's house. I did the same thing when I first moved to Waupaca with the upstairs window curtains. Something about light shining through lace will always make me nostalgic for the early days of everything when my heart went pitter-patter for a good shadow long before I ever learned how to use a camera to document it. I wasn't even a person yet—and by that I mean, nothing had broken me yet. I can still remember being probably five or six years old and laying on the floor in front of the kitchen windows, watching the long shadows cast through the curtains and the pretty golden light that cast rainbows on the floor thanks to my grandma's prism collection.

Anyone remember the Disney movie Pollyanna from the '60s with Hayley Mills? My grandma and I used to watch it together all the time. It was one of her favorite movies. There's a scene in the movie where Pollyanna and one of her orphan friends go to the neighbor's house and they marvel at his prism collection while he explained the science behind it.

"Let us make a garland and hang them in the window!" they begged.

He conceded and Pollyanna says, "Oh it's gorgeous! It's the most beautiful room in the entire world" while they watch rainbows dance across the walls in awe.

I adopted that same sense of awe laying on the floor of my grandma's kitchen. When I moved out years later, I inherited a small chunk of that prism collection. I hung them in the windows of my office in my first apartment and I used to lay on the carpet, face in the sun like my cats, and stare at the rainbows dancing their way across my brown carpet and white walls. It felt like my own little world—my own little slice of magic in everyday life.

Discovering what it means to be broken for the first time and trying to climb out of that kind of darkness is the hardest hurdle to get over. I used to hide in the bathroom as a teenager when I was feeling too much—school, homework, friends, parents, college, pressure. I would grab my little red Kodak camera and take pictures of the light streaming through the curtains to calm myself down. Something about light and shadow has always had a grounding effect on me.

Later, when MySpace became a thing, I wanted to do something different than just holding the camera at arm's length and click the shutter. I propped my mom's digital camera on the table by the garage, set the self-timer and started twirling in circles. That was really the beginning of my journey into portraiture. Of course my 365 challenge came after that, and I still felt the pull to capture light over people. I was just throwing a human element into the mix. My first "explored" picture on Flickr was of my hands dancing in the sunlight, testing the waters of light and emotion and the capacity of what I could create alone, just me and my camera.

All these years later, I can still feel that same pitter-patter and burst of inspiration when I see good shadows. Dappled sunlight and long shadows will always feel like home to me, mixed in with accidental rainbows and some sun flares for good measure. I will probably always be a geek over light and shadow. It's what pulled me through some of the darkest times in my life after all. I can only hope and pray that the magic of it all will never cease to amaze me. So far, we're on the right track.

today is one of the hard ones

I will scream this until I am blue in the face: TAKE MORE PICTURES OF (and with!) YOUR GRANDPARENTS. These are a couple grandparent snaps from my weddings this past year. Photographing weddings and being in the business of watching two families come together to unite as one, I've come to notice how special the relationship is between a grandparent and their grandchild. Grandparents always play a special role in a wedding day. You can feel the joy and love swelling in the room, how proud they are of that little baby that they once held in their arms once upon a time. Grandparents are really a special relationship to have in your life.

My grandma on my mom's side was one of the reasons why I decided to pursue photography as a career. While I was in high school, my family watched her slowly slip away from us. My mom and I got the brunt of it because we lived with her. It started out small... forgetting what she came into a room for, or what we needed from the store. Then she began cycling through names, calling me her own kid's names and even the dog's before she remembered I was her granddaughter. My heart broke as it happened more and more frequently as I got older. Dementia took her from us slowly over time, and suddenly I found myself needing a way to cope with loss before it even happened. Photography has allowed me to do that and more.

The photos are all that I have now that she is gone. They're my comfort when I am sad and miss her. Today is the three-year anniversary of her passing. I will take a moment to sift through all the pictures I have of her, making stink-face at the camera or laughing unaware that someone was taking her photo. The selfie I have of us with her sticking her tongue out, taken on the last day I saw her, always stands out as a moment where I was overwhelmed with joy to just being there with her. One day, my memories of summers at the pool with her or helping her bake chocolate chip cookies will fade away, but those photos I have of her will stand the test of time.

Photography is more than just capturing a beaming, happy face. It's all about the memories attached to the images and the emotion they can evoke from you just by looking at it. Every day I am thankful for this gift I have been entrusted with, and how I can use it to better serve the people around me. I owe a chunk of this business I am building to my grandma, always and forever. I don't know where I would be if it weren't for her and the love she taught me to give.

look toward the light

Yesterday, Justin and I braved the crowds for an adventure known as "Saturday Morning Grocery Shopping."

The first thing Justin said when we walked inside was, "Ugh. Why are there so many people here? It's Saturday morning."

I looked at him and said, "Babe, not everyone sleeps till noon on Saturdays."

"Well, they should start," was his reply.

Then he grabbed my hand and smiled at me as we went toward the deli. Justin wanted taco dip. I took pictures of the tulips by the front stands.

* * * * * *

Flowers never fail to bring me comfort. I always think of the hillside garden in the backyard that my grandma meticulously tended to during my childhood. White and yellow daffodils, white daisies, pink and purple and white flocks, orange and yellow tulips... They colored everything from my first communion photos to family reunion group shots. There was the purple clematis that always grew up and up and up toward the sun, on the trellis where my sandbox used to be growing up. Someday maybe, I'll get a tattoo of all those flowers in a bouquet. A little something for my grandma, because I still think of her every day. I still miss her every day and it's been a year and a half since we lost her.

That is the thing that is so hard to accept about grief, about death, about the enormity of loving and losing someone in general: sometimes, the weight of missing that person that is no longer there feels like it's going to crush you. It's always there, heavy on your heart, and you know that it will never fully go away. It will simply lessen with time, as long as you allow joy into your heart to help with your path toward healing and acceptance. 

* * * * * *

Grief has been overwhelming my life lately.

The triggers, the flashbacks to forgotten memories, the moments when simply getting out of bed seems like a monumental task in and of itself—it's all a fuzzy reminder of being fifteen and lost and trying to cope with the weight of my world falling out from beneath me. Succumbing to the depression and my yet-undiagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder left me stringing together song lyrics and other people's words for inspiration. At first, it started with repetition of the same phrase in my Spanish III notes.

"I shouldn't feel this way, but I do." 

Over and over and over, trying to validate the words that I couldn't yet say out loud. Trying to identify the feelings I couldn't yet name. Trying to ignore the constant onslaught of flashbacks when my biggest trigger of them all was roaming the hallways of my high school, had English class by my locker, hung out in the radio station where my boyfriend DJ'ed the morning show. 

The only thing that ties these memories to my grief over my grandma and my dad is the overwhelming sense of loss that all of these events brought into my life. I have been thinking lately about all of the opportunities I chose to miss out on as a teenager because I was too lost in the darkness to function. Sophomore year, homecoming football game—my boyfriend called me from the radio station.

"Where are you?"

"At home."

"Why? I really wanted to see you."

And I remember my heart breaking because I couldn't find the courage to tell him how worthless and pathetic and alone I felt. The only person who got that fountain of information was my best friend.

And so the wall between me and the men I tried to let love me was built. Construction didn't stop until I was encased in cinder blocks, the total darkness that enveloped me dared me to try and break free. Tiny cracks appeared as I found my voice. Bravery creeped in as I learned how to art my feelings out—whether through a camera or through putting my pen to paper. With the help of my therapist, I learned that my feelings are valid. What happened to me was valid. My voice does matter, despite whatever my anxiety and depression tag team tell me at the time. 

* * * * * *

My roots were formed in the darkness of those cinder blocks. In those nights of me listening to nothing but Mayday Parade on repeat. In those days when it took all I had in me emotionally to just put one foot in front of the other. In those moments where the world stopped and it was just hazel eyes staring into brown from across the cafeteria. In those moments—when the fear and the flashbacks caused all of the systems in my brain to issue an SOS, when the simple act of breathing became too much for me, my roots began to flourish. As a starting point. To say, "Okay. It's only up from here, girly."

Those roots have grown, up and up like my grandma's clematis. They harnessed all of the darkness, all the suffering of the beginning, and they have bloomed into flowers of independence, strength, bravery, and vulnerability. They are constantly teaching me lessons, grounding me and reminding me that the suffering doesn't last forever. The weight of these huge losses in my life won't consume me forever. 

It's okay to get lost in the darkness sometimes. But you must always remember to look toward the light.

the last pie, the last turkey

We all know this picture. We've seen it a million times and can recite the story by heart. Grandma making Thanksgiving pie crusts for the last time, 2011. My favorite picture ever. And, speaking of Thanksgiving, Facebook's On This Day reminded me of Thanksgivings past today. I went back to look at a blog post I made 2 years ago today and I discovered this picture. 

 

My dad carving the turkey on the last Thanksgiving we ever spent together, 2014. I would know those hands anywhere. 

My own hands are shaking right now because THIS is exactly why I'm the one at holidays who shakes the camera in everyone's face and doesn't even put it down during dinner. These moments right here, that sense of knowing that this was the absolute last time these things ever happened, takes your breath away. Because you have it captured in a photo. And now that both of them are gone, photos and momentos and memories are all I have left to remember them by. 

Someday, when I have my own kitchen again, I'm printing both of these photos out. Black and white, with a white matte in a black frame—grandma's on top of dad's, since hers was taken first. I will always cherish both of these pictures forever, precious memories that I will never forget thanks to never taking no for an answer when it came to pictures on holidays. 

august is a weird month

I always have mixed feelings over the last month of summer. Everything feels like it's ending, and nobody wants to go back to school and nobody wants to go to work. We all just want one last month of eternal summer before we have to look responsibility in the eye and either sink or swim in its wake. 

Last summer, I declared I was taking the last half of August off. I didn't pressure myself to share anything here or any other social media platform. And then my grandma ended up on the hospital and was treated for pneumonia. We got kicked out of our apartment and had to move back in with Justin's parents. It seemed like every bad thing happened all at once and I almost completely shut down. I became thankful for my break because it gave me space to breathe. 

This summer took me by surprise. In June, when I called my dad on Father's Day, he informed me that he was in the hospital for chest pain but when they ran tests, they found a spot on his liver. It's cancer. When I went home in June, it was all for the purpose of seeing my dad.  

I shoved down my fear of driving in downtown Milwaukee where I've never driven before, and went to see my padre during the scariest time of his life. I felt so crippled because it felt like my dad needed me to be strong for him and I always felt like I fell just a little bit short. It's weird coming to terms with your own parents mortality, and realizing that one day they won't be there to help you. It's actually something I'm still struggling to come to terms with. 

I also miss my grandma. The anniversary of her death is approaching faster than I can change my calendar pages, signifying that I have done the impossible and survived without her in my life. I'm struggling to cope with my grief right now in light of her anniversary. If losing my grandma has taught me anything, it's that time spent with your loved ones is not wasted time. 

Call your parents today. Call your grandparents. Call your best friends.  Tell them you love them. Tell them how much they mean to you, because you never know when you're not going to get that chance to anymore. 

oldie but a goodie

July 21, 2010 — every time i go to the library, i make it a ritual to walk up and down the aisles, running my hands along the books before i look for anything specific. tonight i happened to find the book reckless driver by lisa vice, and an unquiet mind: a memoir of moods & madness by kay redfield jamison, which was a recommendation made to me by my therapist. i'm excited to read them after i finish extremely loud & incredibly close by jonathan safran foer.

Looking back at my first 365 always makes me at least seven different kinds of nostalgic. This was a good memory to come back to, especially because going to the library always reminds me of my grandma. When I was little, I would always try to bring home a stack of books as tall as I was. She always set a limit of 5 books, and she always promised we could come back for the rest of the library after I finished those 5 books. 

I miss my grandma. 

84 years

My grandma would have been 84 years old today. I miss her. I wish I could call her and wish her a happy birthday and tell her I love her. I wish more than anything that I could hear her voice again and give her a big hug. So I'll just say it here: Happy birthday, grandma. I miss you and I love you more than ever. 

a memory: thanksgiving

This picture always reminds me of Thanksgiving, and it shows a true memory of my grandma without having to show her face. 

Thanksgiving morning 2011, my grandma making crusts for three pies: cherry, pumpkin, and lemon meringue. Her rolling out pie crusts, made from scratch from a very worn, falling apart at the seams cookbook from her mother. There is flour everywhere: on the kitchen counter, on the floor, all over her sweatshirt, on the dog. I remember running into my room and grabbing my camera, not wanting to let any of this real life stuff slip by. 

Little did we all know, 2011 was the last year my grandma made pie crusts for Thanksgiving dessert. She officially handed over the reins to my mom who promised she'd do her best and she watched on the next Thanksgiving while my mom took over the process she had done for the last 45 years. 

This is our first Thanksgiving without her. Grandma won't be there sitting in the big picture window in the living room, a 7&7 in hand asking when dinner is ready. She won't wave me away with my camera whenever I try to take her picture. She won't say grace before dinner and she won't pile the brown sugar on top of her squash (a habit I seemed to inherit from her). She won't be there to yell at the football game with my mom. She won't fall asleep in her recliner when her food coma hits.

This is our first Thanksgiving without her and I am so thankful for my memories. I'm thankful for the time I got to spend with my grandma. I'm thankful for photography and all the little moments like this one that I will hold inside my heart forever. I'm thankful for Magic, and for gratitude because it's always the little things that turn into big ones, and those are the ones that matter the most. 

it's been a long day

The last two days have been the hardest days of my life. It's been really hard for me to come to terms with the fact that I won't see her anymore. I won't get to hear her laugh, I won't get to see her smile, or hear her call for me in the middle of the night anymore. I'll never get to hug tight again, or give her a kiss on the cheek. I'll never see her stick her tongue out at me when she's being sassy. I'll never get a grandma-made chocolate chip cookie, or pumpkin pie ever again.

I am trying to store up my memories, file them deep in my heart to keep her close to me. I am trying so hard to not lose her. I miss her. I miss her, I miss her, I miss her. This afternoon, I went out to the cemetery to visit her. They left her casket spread by her headstone and I grabbed a few more flowers out of it to press when I get home later. I sat in the grass, criss-cross applesauce, and openly sobbed for 10 minutes. I touched the firetruck engraved into the stone that holds hers and my grandfather's lives and I blew them a kiss. I walked back to my car still sniffling, but I could feel her smiling at me from the clouds.

On Tuesday night, I cried the hardest when they took her casket out of the church and loaded it up in the hearse waiting outside. I think that was when it finally hit me: I am never going to see her again. I sobbed openly into my mom's chest, smeared lipstick all over her yellow shirt, while she told me, "It's okay, baby girl. It's okay." My dad watched me with sad eyes. Him and my grandma were really close, even after my parent's got divorced, and I know he worries about me too.

Yesterday we buried her. Family and friends all gathered at our churches cemetery, wandered around looking at all of our family who is buried there. I found my great grandmother's grave, my grandma's mom and my namesake. She was born 100 years before me, in a totally different world. She helped shape my grandma into the woman she became during my lifetime and I am 100% thankful for that. 

We had a party in my grandma's honor at the next door neighbor's house last night. Everyone sat around, ate my grandma's famous chicken wings, drank strong drinks, and reminisced about our time with her. We talked about Brewer's games, summers spent at the pool, holidays, and all of our traditions with her. I felt so light, so happy, remembering her with just a fraction of the people who loved her.

I miss my grandma more than I can put into words. This is the first time I've ever lost someone that I have been as close as I was with her. I am grieving hard right now, but I know she would be proud of me for feeling so much for her. 

I love you, Grandma. I miss you.

magic monday (on tuesday)

My grandma's funeral is today. I am FOR SURE feeling all the things. I just thought it was fitting on Magic (Tuesday) that my grandma had a sign on her door that said Magical Mary Jane that my mom took from the nursing home when she went to collect her things. Today will inevitably be one of the hardest days of my life. I have to say goodbye to the woman I have spent my entire life with. 

Today I'm going to learn what family really means. It will be a far cry from what I thought it meant in 2012 & 2013, when everyone was clawing frantically trying to tear each other apart. I hope my grandma's spirit shines down on us today, and teaches us to look toward the light in the hard times. 

Today I'm leaning on my good humans, because they are all I have left. They are my sunshine in the middle of this gaping hole that has been left in my heart. I need them now more than ever and I am so glad for all the support everyone has shown in the last few days. My family and I are so so thankful. 

burlington trip

a new angel

March 5, 1932 - October 2, 2015

Dear Grandma,

I miss you more than I can say already. When I saw you on Wednesday night, the last thing I said to you was that I love you and told you to be good, be nice to your nurses like you were nice to me. You gave me a big hug and said you love me too but you couldn't make any promises about being good and staying out of trouble. 

I don't know how to live without you. I do not know how to live in a world where you don't exist. I bet you have your fishing cap on and you're sitting on a dock with grandpa right about now. You two have a lot of catching up to do. I know you're in a better place now than you ever could have been here with us, but I still miss you. 

Mom thinks that you waited for me to come home before you went. Like you somehow knew that I was coming and held on just for me. I will always be thankful for that, grandma. I will always cherish those final two days that I got to spend with you. 

I love you, Grandma. I miss you. I'm happy—so, so happy—that you're no longer in pain. Say hi to grandpa for us. I love you so much. 

magic monday

My grandma has lung cancer. In August, she was in the hospital and they treated her for pneumonia, but everyone, my family and doctors alike, thought it was lung cancer from the start. It's stage four and has spread to her fourth and sixth rib. I found out last week Wednesday. 

Today, I'm trying to remember all the good things. When I was little, we moved in with my grandma. She became my built in babysitter while my parents were working. I cannot remember a single childhood summer that does not have her in it.

She would walk me and my cousins down to pool every day after we ate lunch, and would sit in the shade and read while listening to our endless choruses of "Grandma, watch this!" and "Grandma, look what I can do!"

After dinner, we used to sit at the kitchen counter and do puzzles. Start with the edge pieces and work your way inwards. My job was always to find the corner pieces. Some nights, we would colour. Since I'm a lefty, she always colored the right page and let me do the left one. We filled up a color-by-number book when I was nine. I think my mom still has it packed away somewhere. 

I remember the first grandparents day when my cousins and I were finally all in the same elementary school. I was jealous that I had to share her where I hadn't had to share her before. 

During the holidays, I used to help her bake cookies and stir homemade Chex Mix. I would watch in awe as she made homemade pie crust from one of her mothers cookbooks. I always turned my nose up whenever she mentioned the words "green tomato mincemeat pie."

She always made Christmas special. My cousins and I all had these advent calendars where you get to eat a candy bar every day until Christmas. My grandma used to sit in her chair and tie 75 candy bars in total onto our Santa strings, 25 for each of us. 

When I graduated from 8th grade, I had a 4.0 gpa. She bragged to anyone that would listen that entire summer about it. "My granddaughter has a 4.0 grade point average. I'm so proud of her." 

When I was in kindergarten, she used to walk me down to the corner of my street to catch the bus every morning. In elementary school, she would walk me to the 5 corners to meet my cousins so we could walk to school together. In middle school, she would park around the corner from school and be there to pick us up every day. In high school, she always made sure I got up on time to catch the bus. 

Every time I had an important test—state testing in 4th, 8th & 10th grade, final exams in high school, the day I took my drivers test—she always cooked a big breakfast of whatever I wanted. Most of the time it was chocolate chip pancakes and a big glass of milk. Sometimes it was French toast. She always made sure I got a balanced breakfast on my important days. 

When I left for Savannah to go to art school, she got up at 4 o' clock in the morning with us to say goodbye. I sobbed into her chest as I hugged her goodbye. 

I love my grandma with all my heart. She has made my world a better, brighter place to live in. I'm terrified of losing her, because I do not know how to live in a world where she does not exist. I will always think fondly of my memories of her, and I'm trying my best to cherish all of the time I have left to spend with her, regardless of all the driving I have to do to see her. 

I love you, grandma. I'll see you soon. 

gma gma

It's been a very long 24 hours. I love my grandma. I love my family. The next few months are going to be tough for sure, but somehow we will get through them. 

thanksgiving

After not having the opportunity to go down to Burlington for 10 very long months, we made it happen over Thanksgiving. Partly motivated by the prospect of getting my car back after my last failed B-town trip, but mostly motivated by me missing my loved ones (and my mom's cooking). My aunt and uncle came to pick me up in Waupaca Wednesday morning and we stopped at Little Fat Gretchen's for lunch. I napped from Oshkosh to Fond du Lac because I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and we stopped at Krispy Kreme in West Allis to get a snack before dropping me off at home.

Wednesday night I spent with my people. Bryce & Noelle are pretty much the Cristina to my Meredith if you're a Grey's fan like I am. It was so unbelievably amazing to be in the same room with them again and talk like 10 months hadn't flown by in the blink of an eye. We watched YouTube videos (this makes me laugh every time) and played with Sage before he went to bed. It never ceases to amaze me that our friendship is so strong that it feels like no time has passed at all when we get together, even if it's been close to a year since we've all been in the same room.

Thursday was the big day. So much food. So many people. So many selfies (hahaha). It was nice to see all of my family members and help in the kitchen and wave my camera in everyone's face. If I have learned one thing since discovering photography, it's that no one in my family likes pictures... so candids are the way to go. My grandma was sassy all day, my dad came to drop my car off and ended up staying for dinner, and after everyone left Noelle and Sage came over for a little bit to say goodbye before I left.

I say this all the time, but I really am super grateful for this little life of mine. I've got good humans, a passion to pursue, and things like knitting my first blanket to keep me busy along the way.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. xo

Week 47/52