Everything I have written in my mind sounds wrong because in these times, there’s nothing right to say.
This sweet baby boy passed away unexpectedly.
He was six weeks old.
I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to bear that loss, even a little bit. But I know we are all asked to do absolutely impossible things in our lives. Without a choice, really. And that it is our opportunity to walk through those impossible things with each other, in whatever small ways we can.
We almost didn’t take these photos, almost didn’t do the session. And I think it was divinely orchestrated, meant to be that we did. Let me be clear: this isn’t about photos–it’s not some exploitive call to book a photo session. It’s about a whole life, a family, grief, love. Of course our memories of those are more than just an image but what we actually have, tangibly, to remember about those things matters so much, and so much more than we think when we believe we have more and more time.
This doesn’t feel right, but the only thing I know is that showing up even when we say the wrong thing is better than being silent for fear of offense. Nikki said she wanted to share Samson with people, that she was glad to have images of him shared. I think that is the most beautiful, generous thing. He’s a light, and a reminder of everything we all need to remember.
I want to say more, I long to say more. Because it isn’t my story to tell, and yet it is. Because of the photos but also because all of our human stories resonate deeper than pure experience–we don’t have to experience something personally to feel what it would be. And yet, everyone experiences it differently so we can’t pretend to know what someone else is going through. Walking together through the darkness and the light is what I keep coming back to.
Those who have wanted to reach out to this family–Nikki and Joel, baby Samson’s parents, have chosen to give to a cause that matters to them and you can read all about it and donate here in Samson’s honor, if you feel so inclined.
