4/01/2008

the facts of life...

These these life & death portraits and the accompanying stories express in so many ways what I feel every day. That life is too short to put off happiness for some future date:
Gerda couldn’t believe that cancer was cheating her of her hard-earned retirement. “My whole life was nothing but work, work, work,” she told me. She had worked on the assembly line in a soap factory, and had brought up her children single-handedly. “Does it really have to happen now? Can’t death wait?” she sobbed.

And the subtext of this photo essay? Cancer fucking sucks.

3 comments:

Mama Klistel said...

Wow. Thanks for sharing those pictures. Intense. Yes, Cancer does suck, although, I am lucky enough not to know from first hand experience-yet anyway. Friends though...it's crushing.

Lessie said...

My mom has breast cancer right now, but she's determined to survive. Still, she's had to confront her mortality in a much more in depth way than ever before. And in a way, she's brought me face to face with my own mortality, with the realization of how fragile life is, and that we really don't know when it will end. Is that what the people in these photos were saying, is that it's better to not have to know for certain that death is imminent?

jana said...

My perspective on these photos is undoubtedly biased by own sorrow at having lost too many friends too soon to cancer, but this is what I think they accomplish:
1) They demystify death just a bit. When I saw my Dad die, it was my first experience with a fresh (meaning un-mortuaried) body. The way his jaw hung, the open eyes, etc was so new to me. It was a shock to see how different the body is when life is gone. I had a visceral repulsion to the coldness of his skin, but also a deep soul-sorrow at seeing his lovely body carted away in a vinyl bag.
2) The pics tell the (horror) stories and fears of imminent (mostly premature, IMO) death. I have friends who have known they were dying and I've seen the denial, anger, and grace of this experience. It is messy, often prolonged, often horrific. It can also be beautiful for someone to know and prepare. For them to decide (themselves) to up that dose of morphine to heart-stopping levels. For them to say "it is time" and "I am ready now."
3) Death is the last great adventure and we'll all do it eventually. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that death is something we all share yet it is also terribly taboo to discuss in an open way (much less photograph).

Krystal: thank you for your comment and you are lucky, indeed.

Lessie: My thoughts and hopes are with your Mom and with you. I do hope that she has good care and people (like you) around to support her.