"The only reason that I'm still holding on", he'd said to me a few weeks earlier "is that I want to be here to see you and Stephanie get married and be happy."
On a monday evening in late October, less than a week before my wedding, my dad went into the hospital. I rode with him in the ambulance and walked beside him as they wheeled him into the emergency room, a tradition that had become familiar during the last few months as he battled with cancer. I was taking a walk downtown the next morning when my mom called to tell me that the doctors were giving him two to three months to live, but that he should be home on Thursday or Friday. We talked about getting the whole family together for Christmas, and how to make his last few months as comfortable and happy for him as we could.
Late Tuesday night, I was sleeping on a couch in the waiting room when his nurse came and woke me up. He'd taken an unexpected turn for the worst, and they didn't know whether or not he'd make it through the night. The next six hours are still a blur -- and a testament to the fact that I'd chosen to marry the most amazing woman in the world. After everyone had gone home for some much needed rest on Wednesday night, we went for a walk, and out of nowhere she said the exact words that had been running through my mind all evening: "I think that we should get married in the hospital with your dad. It doesn't feel right to do it any other way."
Instead of the huge wedding we'd spent months planning, we were married in Room 6 of the ICU, with only our pastor and parents present. My dad was on a ventilator and heavily medicated, and I wasn't sure that he was aware of what was happening. We stood next to his bed, and I held his hand. As we recited our vows, he squeezed my hand, and I like to think that he was letting me know that he understood what was going on, and that he was happy. When we walked out of the room, married, the entire ICU staff applauded.
Stephanie and I spent our first night as a young married couple sleeping on a couch in the ICU waiting room. Early Friday afternoon, with my mom and brothers and sisters gathered together at his bedside, I watched my wife hold my dad's hand and read the Bible to him. A few minutes later, he passed away.
The whole time we'd planned our wedding, I'd been thinking of it as something that really only affected Stephanie and I. It had never crossed my mind that it was about something bigger than me, something that mattered to the people who loved us, something that I could share with others. I'm grateful beyond words that I was able to share it with my dad…I wouldn't have had it any other way.
People ask me all the time why I became a wedding photographer. I used to give a vague answer about artistic fulfillment or something like that. My story isn't easy for me to talk about, but the reality of it is that I can't help but be a wedding photographer. Where some people just see a handsome groom in a tux and a beautiful bride in a white dress throwing a huge party, I see a significance, often in the little things that most people pass over without a second thought, that I can't ignore -- and everything in me wants to share what I see with my couples.
I want to see them get married and be happy.
