Grieving is hard. It’s just over 30 days since I lost my dad. It’s not my first loss as dear family members and friends have passed away prior.
The loss of Dad hurts and aches in ways I never could have anticipated. Some days grieving feels like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest while on a rollercoaster ride. Other days it’s a quiet pain that burns just below the surface. There’s no roadmap for this journey — only a deep need to keep moving forward. There are moments when standing still feels like all I can manage. Breathing seems at times, difficult. Life though, moves forward.
Many of you have already experienced deep loss, if this blog relates, then neither us are alone on this path. We all need to find our own personal way to cope, to find a new normal. There is no right or wrong way to grieve.
Photography is my passion and my work. It’s how I’ve expressed myself for years — capturing moments, telling stories, finding beauty in nature, travels and wildlife. But now, photography is morphing a bit: a lifeline, a form of solace. It’s one of the few things that still feels right when so much else feels wrong.
In the midst of this grief, I find myself drawn to explore my creativity in new ways. I’m feeling a mental pull to evolve my style — to broaden it, to lighten it, to make it even more uniquely mine. I know that not everyone who follows my work will understand or embrace these changes, and that’s okay. This isn’t about approval or fitting into expectations. It’s about survival. It’s about healing.
I plan to continue with the work I’ve always loved — the style that built my body of work and connected me with so many people. But alongside that, I’m giving myself permission to create differently. To try new things. To let my grief reshape the way I see the world, and in turn, the way I photograph it. I do not know how that will look, only that I need to look at the world and potentially share that world differently.
Something new, refreshing, with a different kind of energy.
This new exploration doesn’t erase the loss. It doesn’t soften the sharp edges of missing my dad — the silence where his voice used to be, the ache of knowing that the house I once called home will soon belong to someone else. None of this creativity fills that void. But it does give me something to hold onto. A thread to follow through the darkness.
Grieving doesn’t have a finish line. It’s now a lifelong companion, one that will change with time but never completely disappear. Photography is part of my search for coping skills — part of how I’m learning to live with the loss, rather than be swallowed by it.
This is just the beginning of that journey. Thank you for being here with me.
10 comments
Sheen, this is wonderful! Your father was the type of dad I hoped for. He was always there to promote you for any reason. I always watched for his posts. My mother passed in February, and my father, unfortunately, doesn’t have the ability to nurture his children. I will be a forever fan of your photography, and a friend in need.
Hi Bruce – it has taken some time to process and start commenting. Thank you, thank you thank you.
Dad (and me) absolutely loved your photography. He was always commenting about your talent and how much he enjoyed your posts. Yes, I am so grateful and blessed for the life Dad lived and how he loved. I miss his comments, knowing that he’s looking and smiling, calling him on the phone whenever I’m in the car. He still is with me….just not where I can see it though. I am so sorry about your Mom….the loss remains a constant. While I had a very strong relationship with Dad, it was very different with my mom – similar to your experience – which I know brings many mixed emotions. Thank you, you are a treasured dear friend.
Thank you Sheen,for sharing! As you have shared your photography with us, I share ❤️ and blessings 🙏 with you!
John – you are so welcome and I appreciate your care and comments. Each day is better – I’m at a point where I can talk about memories and smile – he is always missed though. I know for all of us the loss of those we love deeply is always a constant.
Sheen – it IS hard, but you’ve excellently captured the fact that we all must continue to move forward. I wish you well as you move forward, and I can’t wait to see how this will be reflected in your work!
Lynn – thank you! It’s taken a while to start responding to messages about my Dad – but each day changes and morphs. So many good memories – I’ve been delving back into more bird photography – he loved birds along with my mom. It’s something that really makes the spirit sing – yes, pun intended;)
Embrace the memories….
Yes….every day I focus on different ones as I move forward – they give peace. Thank you Terry.
I lost my dad and biggest supporter in’20. The hole in your heart never goes away, but boy the memories, I love and live them! ☮️
Hi Phil – so true – sounds like your relationship with your Dad was amazing! He lives through you every day. Thank you.
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