The Daddy/Daughter Connection

I am not a spiritual person.

I don't believe in ghosts.

That said, I really want to write about the fact that my newfound hobby, photography, has brought me closer to my father.  My dead father.  I don't really know how to write about it.

My dad was a photographer, a professional even, long before I came along.  I remember as a child squeezing between stacks of dusty boxes in the garage to get to his old prints.  I'd thumb through them, pick out my favorites and pin them to my bedroom wall (at one point, I had an artsy black and white print of some hills pinned above my hot pink stereo.  Imagine how embarrassing that conversation was when he told me that it wasn't a landscape, it was actually a pair of women's breasts.  Needless to say, the picture was quickly replaced by one of my older sister as a child).  I loved his pictures.  My love for my dad's photos turned into a love of photography in general as I got older.  Until recently, I never really tried to take better photographs myself, but have always been an lover and appreciator of other people's work.   

The last month or so that I've been taking these photography classes and attending the seminars for photo week, I've been thinking of my dad a lot.  At first it was a sad feeling that would come over me.  Wishing he were here because he would have loved this kind of thing.  But during the "Inspirational Photography" seminar this weekend with Bill Fortney, the feeling changed from a feeling of loss to a feeling of closeness.  I sat there watching the presentation and thinking how lucky I am that I get to share this hobby with my dad even though he is gone.  Almost like the part of him that is in me was bubbling up to the top and I felt like I understood a bit better what he was all about.  By understanding, appreciating and doing something that he always loved, in a way, enables me to share that with him.   

Not having a faith, not believing that I will one day see my dad again, makes for a very difficult grieving process.  Five and a half years gone and I still miss him terribly.  Now I feel hopeful more than sad.  Inspired even, to continue taking classes and get out there and try to take beautiful pictures.  Pictures he would have been proud to frame and display on his wall like I do of his.