This past Thursday was my birthday. As expected, my mom sent me a birthday card that mentioned her memories of having me so many years ago, but after that she primarily just wrote about her Uncle Shorty and the health issues he was having. She mentioned to me about both he and his wife, Aunt Evelyn, being like a second set of parents to her at one point. She asked me to pray for them. I could tell how concerned she was for them through her writing. So, prior to getting her card I was trying to decide between going out swing dancing that night, or to a concert. Reading the card made it clear to me what I should do that night though.

I threw some of my things together and got on the road within an hour or so to go see them for the weekend — I wanted to help them out however possible while there. It seemed like the least I could do for my mom for carrying me around inside her for nine months, and to Uncle Shorty and Aunt Evelyn for loving my mom like she was their own. When I arrived that night it instantly became clear to me that I made the right decesion in driving up to see them. Uncle Shorty had a doctors appointment the next morning over the back issues he was having, after having broke it and had numerous surgeries on it, he still lives in constant pain. I ask him what type of pain it was and how bad it was on a scale from one to ten, with ten being the worst. He told me that it was a throbbing pain that was an eight — even while on the potent pain pills the doctor had prescribed him.

Think about that. Think about what it must be like to live with that level of pain daily.  On the way to and from the doctors office that next day, he cried out in pain when I hit any kind of bump in the road — sometimes. The other times I saw him grimacing in pain through the rearview mirror — not making a sound — as I hit the smallest of bumps in the road that I couldn’t avoid. The doctor told him that day that they’d give him an epidural this Thursday, tomorrow, that hopefully will provide him temporary relief. My Uncle Shorty told me that if it doesn’t work that he just assume go ahead and let go and die. Think about chronic pain so bad that you’d rather die than live with it. The amazing thing is that while we were out, he still made the effort to open the car door for his wife of 65 years or so, despite the pain he was in. Oh yeah, if you want something to aspire to as a married couple, read their story and insight on marriage here.

This was the shot I originally had in mind. I deliberately showed the framed print of the USS Alabama in the background because Uncle Shorty served on it in World War II. He was a gunner. Just to the right of that is a photo of a large public sculpture their son-in-law did that’s in a town in Spain. This shot captures more about who they are and what type of people they are — but it doesn’t capture the concern they both are feeling right now. The shot I’ve posted above, at the top of the post, turned out to be my favorite. It is a candid shot that I captured when they were not expecting me to shoot. It represents how they feel rather then who they are, which is important in this case. As I left their house the other day Uncle Shorty told me that Aunt Evelyn was the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. I hope to find somebody and love them as much as he loves her one day.

So, while I was there staying with them, I decided to do another portrait of them together. Over the years of being a professional photographer I’ve discovered the power a single image can have, especially portraits. I can tell somebody they’re beautiful, or I can capture their beauty through a camera and have other people tell them they’re beautiful when they see that image. I can pray for Uncle Shorty like my mom asked me to, and even ask other people to pray for him, but, he would just be a name without a face to those that don’t know him. Or, I can do a portrait of them both and give more of a sense of humanity to them and my moms request for prayer for them. It’s much harder to ignore such a request when their is a face — a human being you can actually see — that you can associate with it. When portraits have this kind of power they become much more than just a photograph or portrait.

This blog post and the portraits I have posted here are my most sincere effort to honor my moms request of me to pray for my great aunt and uncle. If you believe in God and prayer, please pass this post on to others and say a prayer for them. If you don’t believe in prayer, please, just wish them well. God listens to you, too.