Paying it forward…the funeral I photographed two weeks ago

I don't remember if I mentioned it on here two weeks ago, but my recently widowed college friend asked me to photograph her husband's funeral two weeks ago. I wish I'd never had a reason to pay this particular debt forward, but at the same time, there wasn't anything I'd rather do more for my friend.

If you want to see how some of the photos turned out, they're up on my Facebook fan page and on my photography blog. You can find them here:

• Blog post with a slideshow of photos from the service
• Photo album on Facebook

And mercifully, photographing his service made it much easier for me to sit (errr…I mean, stand) and be at his service. And funny thing (and I mean "funny" only in the ironic, it's-not-actually-funny sense)…turns out I wasn't actually having to sit through Charley's funeral service again.

I realized that I had that same internal fear two years ago, before sitting through the funeral of the father from the dance team…but I'd forgotten. I was really apprehensive and nervous before attending Don's funeral two years ago, and while his service--a full, formal firefighter's service--was incredibly hard to sit through (much harder, in many ways, than Charley's had been), I remember realizing that I'd expected it to be a repeat of Charley's funeral. I'd expected to be overcome by the same grief I felt that first week after Charley died, to be paralyzed with the same feelings I'd had as I walked into the chapel for Charley's service, as I spoke into the microphone. I expected it to be the same exact thing, somehow.

And of course it wasn't the same thing at all, because it wasn't for Charley.

In the last two years--ever since going to Don's firefighter funeral, actually--I've stopped going to the funerals of people who died too young, despite my good intentions. A part of me always wanted felt obligated to go, because I know how much it meant to me to see the full chapel at Charley's funeral, to see the random, completely unexpected people who showed up. But I had to admit defeat that funerals were just too hard for me to go to. Funerals for family members who died after a long, full life: no problem. But people who died too young? Nope, too hard. It's one of the few times I'll still pull the "widow card" to excuse my nonattendance.

But there was no way I'd let myself skip the funeral for the husband of a dear friend of mine, no matter how hard it might be. My stomach churned and my legs felt weak, though, in the shower before I left for Greg's service (why is it always in the shower?), and I realized I had some of the same apprehension and nervousness as I drove to his service. I didn't know how his service would be for me, how I'd react…but I was glad to have my camera as a distraction.

And while a few moments of his service got to me--but who wouldn't react?--I was surprised again, afterward, by my relief…relief that Greg's service wasn't Charley's all over again.

And I never would have been able to put those words to the feelings, to the fear, before the service. I didn't know that I was afraid of falling into a time warp or a worm hole or something, but I was. I was afraid of finding myself back in that same moment at 1pm on Saturday, July 16, 2005, as Charley's service began.

And thank god that I didn't. I might hate at times that it's been nearly six years since Charley was with us, but I thank god that I'm now years past the worst, most awful bits of his loss….