Skip to main content

Lauren's mom

Lauren Vassello
She's got her own identity. She's got her own name, her own job, her own life. But in my mind, she will always be Lauren's mom. And she made me rethink what it means to be a mother.

I was struggling last week to write a tribute about her beautiful 13-year-old daughter who, after battling an extremely rare and aggressive form of cancer, passed away. It was just one year ago that the family had been blind-sided with the devastating diagnosis.

I called Stephany and clumsily stumbled through a few awkward, shallow questions. I felt like I was trampling on holy ground. Then I said, "tell me about Lauren." For the next hour I did nothing but type and listen.

This super-human mom recounted her daughter's journey from the first phone call from the doctor to her final moments in the hospital, reciting every detail with the driven automation of a machine, the precision of a surgeon, and the energy of a tornado. She seemed to be on a mission to retrace every step — not for me — but to honor her daughter's struggle and spirit. She watched over every word of her daughter's story with the same focus and attentiveness that a first-time mom watches her baby sleep.

I was in awe. I felt ferociously protective of this mother, this daughter, this battle, this journey...

As I prepared Lauren's scanned photo for print, I studied the light in her eyes before she was sick. I carefully removed every speck of dust from her image, her cheer leading uniform, her beautiful smile. And with each stroke, I remembered getting my daughters ready for school, for recitals, for church, for the prom. I felt protective of them, too.

There was softness in Stephany's voice as she recounted her daughter's last days, her dreams for the future, and finally her death. For her, the work of being strong is over, and the even harder work of grieving has begun.

I think of her often, and feel grateful that even in an unspeakably tragic situation, I got to witness her heroism. Stephany reminded me of the unfathomable depth of love a mother — or father — has for their child. She reminded me of how much I love my daughters, and in a few months, how I'll get to watch my oldest daughter love her new baby girl.

Well done, Lauren's mom. For what it's worth — you did it right.


Also available at: MPNnow.com
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mertensia Bluebells: a breathtaking 'walk in the park'

I've heard tales of the spectacular "Mertensia Park bluebells" for years. But despite my best efforts to juggle work and home schedules, life never lined up so I could experience them first hand. At last I was able to visit this week — twice — and discovered hidden treasures and peace of mind both times. Healing, even. I took my Canon EF 100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM   along to see how it would handle closeups and longer distance shots, and it was good to forge a relationship with what I've previously considered to be my uni-tasker.  Walk with me....  
Post a Comment
Read more

Our images, our legacy: ensuring our photography outlives us

That perfect shot. Oh, the time we’ve poured into planning, trekking, stalking, calculating, positioning and finally focusing in order to capture it. And often it's in a remote location, in extreme cold or heat, at inconvenient hours of the day or night. That's followed by the endless hours of editing, tweaking, education and skill development to coax it into perfection. And let’s not forget the small fortune we’ve poured into procuring the toys and tools that fill our multiple camera bags to help make that perfect shot even possible. So we’ve captured the images — lots of them, if we’re lucky. And they’re gorgeous. Now what? How can we move them beyond our computer monitor and out into the world? How might they help enrich the lives of our friends and families and those in our community? And how can we ensure our photographs — the product of our time, passion, creativity and cash — will outlive us and become a legacy for future generations? My grandfather was a career
Post a Comment
Read more

Perspective

In this composite using my macro rose with a friend's drone photo, I combined his expansive perspective with my intimate point of view.  It's a great analogy for how I like to create — examine all sides of a subject before shooting, writing or forming an opinion about it. Both views are essential, and it's often of great benefit to view them at the same time.
Post a Comment
Read more