Photographs I Didn't Take #1

In a lush green garden under a brilliant blue sky, a crowd of people in semi-formal attire sit on rows of white folding chairs. They crane their necks to look at the white man standing in their midst. His cheeks are reddened, weathered. His hair, sideburns, and close-trimmed beard are all a dull gray-brown. Thick, square sunglasses conceal his eyes. He lists to one side like a distressed ocean liner, reading from a piece of paper held in his left hand as he speaks into a microphone in his right hand. A long string of saliva dangles from his lower lip and hangs glinting in the sunlight.

The Future Shines Bright
Ojai, California
May 1996

This photo is not taken as I am standing in front of family and friends moments before exchanging vows with my almost-husband. My father is reading a passage I have selected for him from the Tao Te Ching when I suddenly understand that his long, slow march toward death is coming to an end. The realization strikes me with a clarity I’ve experienced only a few times in life. It is a pivotal moment during which I simultaneously embrace my future and accept the difficult truth that I will soon lose one of my most important relationships.