if you’ve asked about dad, or thought of our family or prayed or sent gifts or felt care over these last few months since his stroke and heart surgery: your generosity has sustained us through so many impossibilities. thank you.
i realized i haven’t posted about this. in the spirit of not shying away from the morbid, tender reality of human life:
it’s been brutal. today, he laughed on the phone. most days, he cries. he’s in a small room with most of his cognition and brilliance in tact and nowhere to put it. (the room has a window that opens toward the intracoastal: blessing.)
life changes in an instant. one moment, he was reading in the living room — and the next: all of this. unsure if he will see the cats again. we still have hope. mom is there every day — warrioress. i worry about her most. our matriarch of get-shit-done and defiant care.
being far away most of the time is tough. i miss him physically and also the him that the stroke subdued. how strange it is for the man who has never missed an airport ride or let me lift something heavy, to be immobilized. how we have had to lift him.
all the knowledge in the world is hard-pressed to prepare us for a family health tragedy. it was a shock, how much we’ve needed to advocate for him through medical care. if one can help it, i’d recommend never leaving a loved one alone in the hospital.
i have no words for all of the nights we slept in recliner chairs next to his bed, soothed him through unimaginable panic, learned new ways to communicate when he couldn’t remember how to speak. every minute was horrible news and then a miracle, back to back — our mortality dancing with the divine.
he’s the most resilient, faithful man i’ve ever known. his love is still infinite. most days, he’s thankful to have made it through, and some days, the thought scares him. he is moved by every message, thought, prayer, and even by just thinking of the people who we know and love.
i’ll never forget how so many of you rallied around us in spirit and beyond over these last several months, and always. i love you. he loves you. we love you.
there’s your heart, too tender for our mortal aching, and there’s the hand of god that you fall into. you meet someone with eyes too shallow to see what’s beneath your feet. no mind; two more will gather to bless the sacred ground around you. you crawl back into the carcass and lick the bones clean. you sleep a sleepless sleep, hollowed by the haunt of all this death in living. again and again and again, you die and return, and i am looking at you now. drenched in mercy. giving your first breath away.
i’m in awe of human resilience. there is so much that could turn us bitter, but look at us, asking to become more loving instead. the deer come for apples. steam rises from the kettle. the sun sets again.
no one is coming to save us. everyone is here to save us. lately, i am softened by miracles. so much has been lost in a short time, and what arrives is refined and beautiful. i’m thankful for what i don’t know. and for birdsong, still. and for hands that feel like safety.
thank you, i love you, thank you, i love you, thank you, i love you, thank you, i love you.
from the bottom of my heart: holy shit.
beauty and terror. this season has been a fever dream. nothing can prepare us for life’s turns. one day, dad was reading in the living room, and the next ——
and the world spins madly on. between hospital sleeps & weird non-death grief & holding family close, there have also been weddings & endless work & holiday gatherings & warmth only an animal laying on my chest can give.
friends sent funds for dad’s favorite mocha lattés. when i kept forgetting to eat this past week, my girls cooked dinner / sent delivery. L took care of the pets so many times. mom has held down *everything* back home and stayed by dad’s side constantly. sweet humans all over have prayed, reached out, and extended palpable love. every single bit of bad news has been followed by two more miracles.
i hardly have words for anything that life has been these last few months (also: years), but thank you. kindness is our healing balm and i’ve been the luckiest to receive it. this world is horrible & wonderful & hideous & gorgeous.
i love you.
when I finally put the finishing touches on Emma and Jeremy’s gallery, shivers went through my body.
I’ve looked through their photos hundreds of times, each time discovering something I hadn’t noticed before. I can feel their hearts in every still-frame, and I know that they will, too.
I know over the days and years to come, the photos both stay the same and evolve - as we who look at them evolve… and it brings a kind of magic to my heart to imagine them taking these in over the expanse of time.
I love you, @veganem + @jdepoyster 🖤 thank you for choosing me to photograph your wedding. 😭
planner: @yourperfectbridesmaid
photo: @jentalesman
venue: @tinroofbarn
florist: @songbirdfloristry
hair: @markhols
makeup: @laurenmolinamakeupartistry
emma + jeremy got married on september 5th, 2025. 🥹 they’re two of my favorite people in the world. here’s a tiny glimpse.
i’ll remember all my life what it felt like to be in the room with emma right after she put her dress on & saw herself in the mirror. and to have hugged jer at his hotel at the beginning of the day. and every quiet + loud moment that makes up a wedding day like this.
it’s absurd to get to see and document and hold space for transformative love for a living. thank you, thank you, thank you. i love you. 🖤
@veganem + @jdepoyster
planner: @yourperfectbridesmaid
photo: @jentalesman
venue: @tinroofbarn
florist: @songbirdfloristry
hair: @markhols
makeup: @laurenmolinamakeupartistry
catering: @devilsfoodcatering
cake: @kyrasbakeshop
