Welcome new light

1.03.12:

I owe a personal thank you to the airline attendant who helped us work out a seating nightmare by making multiple changes and hooking us up with a pair of seats on the east side of the plane.  My husband and older daughter had a pair on the west side, and I happily scooted into our two seater row with my youngest by the window.  The nicest thing about flying above the clouds at 6 AM is that you can always count on a sunrise.  This one was going to be special since it was the first one of 2012, so even before I saw anything I was excited.


I took plenty of photos, and was most excited by the subtle catch light on the wing of the plane.  I was having troubles with my lens again with it not functioning under certain focal lengths, so I used the trick of shooting in video mode.  For whatever reason my lens will work at all focal lengths under that setting.  Taken I don't have the same controls and the resolution isn't as high, but I could work around that in order to capture a few images.


I'm guessing that I stopped taking pictures, to the relief of the young man sitting behind us, after about an hour.  After that time I was paying more attention to the emergency medical situation of the woman in front of me who couldn't breathe properly without an oxygen tank, but that I will save for another post and set of documentary photos.



So here are a handful + from the many.

The coming of the sun on New Year's morning 2012.

Goodbye, sweet Daddy

John Bognar
August 29, 1938 - August 27, 2011


9.20.11, 1:05 AM:
I've been delaying posting in this blog that my father passed away. It's not as if not writing has made it any better in the healing. Even though every time I share it hurts, not sharing has hung with me like a weight. Finally, I need to write.

It was horrible getting the phone call from my mother in the early hours that Saturday, all I could do was weep and hold my heart. Later that day is when I had my wailing session once my husband took my daughters out of the house. I felt like my shouts were connecting to something bigger in this world, to the shared loss endless people were experiencing at that given moment. I remember grabbing a notebook to write a prayer or mantra of sorts as I dropped myself into a chair. The words sit in an evolving box of memoirs, but these are the ones that run through me and hopefully into the space of goodness:


"Sweet, Daddy spirit, set yourself free of your pain and become part of everything beautiful in this world."


I imagined that magnificent show of clouds that I had seen during one of my return flights from my parents on June 27. The view was stunning, and left me, along with my fellow window seat neighbors, in a complete state of awe. I shared my amazement with my parents upon my return, and made a print of this image for my father to see for his birthday. The print was en route as my mother shared the news, and it broke my heart that I didn't get it there in time. I have to hold onto the hope that my excitement and the words about the scene gave him a sense of the greatness and wonder. In my heart and mind, this is the beauty he is now with, and in that is reassurance and healing. It is the tribute to my father's love.

Cool