So much has changed since we last spoke. For me personally, I'm guessing for you personally, for the country, and for the world.
I don't need to explain what I mean about the country and the world. We all know about the surreal and heartbreaking situation we're in together.
I sincerely hope your health and the health of your loved ones is good. I hope you're not experiencing hardship or violence. I hope you have help and people you can count on. (I am incredibly grateful that I can say these things are true for me.)
Here's my nutshell since we last spoke: my father passed away last August. I was in Rapid City, SD in the house with him and my mother all summer, caring for him and sharing the last weeks of his life. It was the most difficult and most rewarding experience I've ever had.
I moved to Rapid City to be near my mother last fall. I now split my time between the Black Hills of South Dakota and Taos, NM.
I'm currently reinventing my photography career, and launching a book project called From Taos to Tanzania.
I've also started a second photography project that will eventually turn into a book as well, with the theme of absence. The photo below, which I made of my father's hospital bed the morning after he passed, is part of that.
Sam and I are hitting the road in August, staying in NYC for a month, then coming back through New England, photographing and sharing stories along the way.
I'm recommitting to a weekly blog schedule, so you'll start seeing regular posts here, and since I'm diving into my back catalog of unprocessed travel photos, I've got plenty of material to share.
You have no idea how good it feels to write this, and the happiness it brings me to think of reconnecting with you all. I hope you'll leave a comment below and let us know how you're doing.
Lastly, here's that photograph, called The Morning After.
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This photo is so Sadly poignant and yet so beautiful. You made it possible for him to leave from home, and that is wonderful. I can almost see his spirit here. It has to feel good that you were able to do so much. Bittersweet.
We are well here in CT and loving our new “pup”. Staying here instead of traveling, as we were going to do, isn’t bad at all, especially as were able to put a lot of time into the gardens. Sunny spends her time with us securing the property from squirrels, chipmunks and deer. Or thinks she does anyway.
Will look forward to hearing from you weekly and so excited about your books. Stay well.
Love, Susi ❤️
Thanks so much for this kind comment, Susi. (Did you get an email about this new post? I’m reconfiguring my settings and would love to know.)
It cheers me to think of you three in CT, enjoying your beautiful home and each other. Onward. 🙂
Yes, I think maybe two emails! Enjoying rain here in CT, a bit of an unexpected gift.
Our dog, Sunny is a year younger than Sam. They would be good companions. Come visit!!
Lots of ❤️
Two, oh boy. Tech issues are neverending. Sunny! We’d love to meet him/her. Wandering ways begin again this fall, so it’s likely we’ll see each other again sooner than later. 🙂
I am so excited to see you are back making posts and working on your photography. As we travel down the river of life we sometimes take a detour. We paddle the boat to shore and get out for awhile and follow another path. To be able to be with your mother and father at this time will always be part of your heart journey. Here is to more of that! Big hug, Susan
Thanks so much, Susan! Your kind words and encouragement make me so happy. 🙂
This made me cry, but if it had to be Monte’s last summer, I was grateful that the three of us had these few weeks together as a family. And I still see Sam laying by his bed as they both slept. I don’t know how I could have gone through this without you by my side. I love you.
Mom, I feel the same. The greatest gift that we could all be together, including Sam, as a family. I couldn’t have got through it without you, either. I love you.
YAY for the return of the blog! 😀 😀 😀
That picture is so familiar to me. It reminds me of the aftermath of the death of both of my parents. There’s just this … vacancy. It’s such a strange atmosphere.
I’m looking forward to your further adventures. The first half of this year has been a wild ride (and not in a good way, and we haven’t even technically reached the halfway point yet). Here’s hoping there’s improvement soon! <3
Thanks for the enthusiasm, Deb! Vacancy is a good word. Absence is the theme, but it’s the same idea. I also felt it with his body, which is such a strange thing, to know the life has left someone’s physical container. I’m guessing you can relate. And cheers to improvement! That’s a positive thought. 🙂
Beautiful photo. I too took photos of the last month of my mother’s life before she passed. I still find comfort in remembering she stayed fiesty and made me laugh, even days before she died. I hope I can be that too when my time comes. I am grateful she not only showed me how to live, but how to die as well. Love to you.
Thank you, Catherine. That’s wonderful about your mother in her last days! What a gift you could be together, and I agree about the lessons learned. Love to you as well.
Good to hear from you and that you seem to be healing as well from losing your father. Since I lost my husband I have found what true grief is like…nothing compares. Healing comes with time…but still it catches me at unexpected moments. I’m looking forward to reading your Blog and seeing your photography. Take care and Happy and Safe Trails to you and Sam. Shelley
Shelley, I knew about your husband and can only imagine your grief. I’m so sorry. It’s up and down here too, for both Mom and me. But thank you for the encouragement! Feels great to do something creative in the face of so much strife and sadness.
Love the photo, Deonne. Thank you for sharing. Looking forward to seeing more amazingly beautiful photos! Hugs!
Thanks so much, Kath. I’m thrilled to be back to photography and blogging. Love to you. <3