Today I photographed a military funeral. And today was one of those days where I wondered, am I cut out for this? I didn't want to be there, but I knew I had to be. No, not because it was my assignment, but because this is a man who fought and died for our country and who deserves a whole lot more than a fancy burial. What else is there to do though? The only way I can pay my homage to document a major part of our history as respectfully and carefully as possible. It's important, the family understood it's importance too, and allowed media to be there. I still didn't want to be there however. Of coarse, no one really wants to be there.
Yet, out of my own selfish reasons, I think my issue with photographing a military funeral stems from my personal ties. Historically and visually, photographers have made stunning images of these tragic events. I have absolutely no problem with it. If the family allows us to be there, then we should be. It is our duty just like the honor guard's. I just take issue with myself being there. Why?
...As I paced back and forth for over an hour and a half in a near panic attack, trying to find my inner composure, waiting for the one whole minute I have to make a photograph of a casket coming out of a church, into a hurst, and people being emotional, I just wanted to scream.. I know, if I just remove myself from it all, I can do it. But I can't. I just want to run. I just want to hug someone. I just want to pretend like it's not there. It's one day where I don't know if I'd mind too much photographing kittens and babies (haha yeah right).
All I can think about is for 18 months, this very event that I am witnessing and being the eyes of a community to, was my world's greatest fear. For 18 months, my life was ruled by waiting by a phone to hear a distant yet familiar voice. For 18 months, I was terrified if I answered that unknown number it would be someone else's voice with news that I dreaded more than anything in the world. But, if I didn't pick up the phone or accidently forgot to keep the phone in close range and missed that call, I would be near hysterics for hours because I wouldn't know when I would be able to hear that voice again, if ever. I couldn't watch the news or any military related commercials. For 18 months, I despised that person for putting me through such hell. And yet, loved so deeply, I was way too young to ever understand. For 18 months, everyone thought I was fine and couldn't believe I was able to "handle" myself so well, because they wouldn't be able to. "How do you do it?" I was asked on a weekly basis. "I don't" I would say and change the subject. I just always kept in mind that whatever I was going through, the person I was waiting for had it a hell of a lot worse, that's what kept me going.
Every person that has someone dear that is deployed, goes through some kid of internal war in their own way. Some end up lucky, others have to go through what the Duffy family is going through right now. I don't want to make a mockery of anyone's pain and I fear that. I don't understand their loss, everyone deals with that differently. I don't want to understand, because I don't ever want to go through it. But it is important. It's important to be there.
That was several years ago for me. As for my fait, we were lucky and mostly everyone came home safe. As for our relationship, that hit full bloom way too fast and wilted away before I even got my first grey hair. I'm still proud of every decision I ever made and don't regret a thing. It's part of my story... which has a lot of chapters in 24 years. I still hold those chapters very dearly, more so than I'd actually like to let on. Phew, okay moving on.
So am I cut out for this job? Hell yes. Those experiences are yet another reason why I am a visual story teller. Sometimes we just have to do things that make us uncomfortable. Will I ever get numb to military funerals? No. Probably not. I think it's just one of those things that you can't shake off no matter how hard you try. i don't really want to grow numb to it either. It's embedded in me. Holy crap, I am human!
2 comments:
I think you did this soldier justice, Steph.
I never realized how hard it must be knowing someone deployed ... because I really don't. It makes it hard to say I understand when I really have no idea about it.
Nice work you are doing over there.
OK, wish there was spell check. But what I said: What a beautiful tribute to all the men and women who served and continue to serve our country. What a beautiful tribute to all the wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends that wait at home and are too scared to pick up that unknown call.
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