I considered photographing Kim a couple of days ago while he slept. We often see this journey recorded through a loved one’s lens, bringing reality to the table and giving it a place in history.
Ah, but….there is a void that fills a room when I stand there, watching him labor for breath and wince at an involuntary swallow. The redness that rims his blue eyes, the swelling in his soft lips.
Though not a physical thing, he lays guarded against those who walk through the door and minds his IV lines so they aren’t interrupted in their task.
What do I want to remember?
How much of the horror could I share?
Where in the grey mist does his dignity moor?
Some days, I have to look deep into myself and will my eyes to see him there. Not the skin and bones that he occupies, but the soul that has come to rest in his eyes.