Being chosen to photograph a family is always an honor but being chosen to photograph the last session a family will ever have is one of the greatest honors of my life.

On February 17th, 2015 the beautiful wife, mother, and sister, Michelle Sharp passed away at home surrounded by her family.  She faught a good fight against a horrible, agressive form of breast cancer.  Michelle touched so many lives through her struggle and also as a nurse herself.

I met her the Sunday before Christmas when her immediate and extended family came in the studio for their "last" professional portrait session.  Michelle and her family had been told less than a week before that there was nothing more the doctors could do for her.  The cancer had spread into her lungs.  The mood was very somber, yet the studio was full of love and warmth and appreciation for the time that they had together.  There were still smiles and laughter along with the tears.

Knowing that the emotion would be overwelming for everyone, I decided to take the extended family portraits first.  It was beautiful to watch Michelle's family gather around her with such a sense of familiarity and peace.  The moments of silence were deafening, everyone thinking the same thing, but no one speaking it.  Her little sister and little brother trying so hard to be strong for Michelle, yet their vulnerability was present each time they turned their faces away from her.

I am so blessed to be truly loved and cherished by an amazing man and I have two beautiful great kids who mean the world to me.  At that moment, I couldn't help but put myself in Michelle's place.  How do you prepare your family for your death?  Your absense? Their emptiness?  Their grief and anger?  My eyes began to burn and my breathing quickened... I had to hold it together.  This was one of those moments where I had to step outside myself and focus on creating images that would be cherished for a life-time.

After the extended family session, I decided to photograph Michelle with her husband and children.  I knew this would be an image they kept up in their home forever, it needed to be a happy moment, capturing some sort of normalness in a moment of intense grief.  After that, each child had their own session with their mom, no one else in the room but me.  This is when my shoulders dropped, I exhaled and accepted the emotion in front of my lens.  I quietly stood behind the camera and just let them exist in their own space with their own individual story.  Each relationship was unique and precious.  Michelle was so quiet, barely saying a word.  It felt as if she was pouring all her energy into each child and trying to imprint that moment on them so they would never forget the depth of her love for them.  The ease in which they were with her was beautiful and painful at the same time.

Last to enter the camera room was Michelle's husband, Jason.  His emotion was evident on his face.  Eyes filled with tears, yet his posture and dimeanor were nothing but strength.  His eyes were focused right on her, he took her in his arms, held her close and squeezed his eyes tight.  Everything stopped for just a moment... we were all frozen in time.  Then he opened his eyes and they both solemnly looked toward my camera.  This cold, hard piece of technology that was their to capture the softest, warmest part of humanity.  How can a camera know loss? know love? understand the depth of their despair or offer any hope?  I think that it was no cooindence that Michelle's husband and my husband have the same name.  All I could see is my Jason holding me, trying to pull me so close until we were sharing the same breath, the same heart beating in our chests.  Thinking that if he just held me this close forever, no harm could ever come to me.  He could protect me!  And as he exhaled, the realization of helplessness and loss covered his face and there we were.  So we bagan... the last images of a love so strong that it will reach beyond Heaven's gates.

Thank you God for giving them this time together and for giving us all the strength to endure.  And thank you for using me as an instrument....