Faces of Bravery
Their faces and personalities are burned in my mind as though I just met them yesterday. The photographer that the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society used the prior year for their portraits was unavailable. Someone referred them to me. It is a moment of chance I will be forever grateful for.
Arriving in the emptied out event space, the lighting from the windows bounced off the warm wood floors and brick walls. I was glad to be back in that space, having previously shot a couple weddings there. After I set up my backdrop and got a feel for the lighting that day, the models came in one at a time. Some of them brought someone with them - a mother or friend. Each of them a little uncomfortable but also glad to be there.
Over the course of two days, I was fortunate enough to spend time one-on-one with each of them for half an hour. They were either currently undergoing treatments for their cancer or were in remission - each impressed upon me a different character and strength.
Two of the participants laughed together, supporting one another. Danny had been LLS’s Man of the Year, and he was mentoring the younger who was named Boy of the Year. Some shared their stories more openly than others. Some had a quiet strength while others were more boisterous. One little girl wore and carried the color orange because it was her favorite color. It made her feel brave. She was nervous to have her picture taken and no stranger to needing courage.
For the vast majority of them, you would never guess they were cancer survivors as they passed you on the street or in your local store. You would assume the little boy jumping up and down was a normal boy like any other - not someone who had experienced such a tremendous challenge at such a tender age. Equally, you might assume that the gorgeous woman next to you was like all the rest - maybe even assume she was shallow or spoiled rather than someone who had faced death.
The two days coincided with an enormous cyst bursting inside my body, causing me significant enough pain that I couldn’t eat. I was underplaying it, but the two staff members at LLS encouraged me to see a doctor. I ended up staying in the hospital overnight. It’s all completely insignificant compared to the pain and struggle of these beautiful souls. However, it did do something to further burn the experience into my mind. The pain we shared physically and emotionally was a reminder of the brevity and unique gift of life.
When we find ourselves so close to this deep realization there is often a simultaneous joy amidst the grief, a tenderness that co-exists with sadness, and a calmness despite the fear. Those who walk the hallowed grounds together become fused irrevocably. I have often wondered what has become of each person. The cancer could have come back. The damage from their treatment may cause issues for the rest of their lives. On the other hand, maybe, just maybe, it has given them an unquenchable love for life…not just for life but for living.
