Pieces of Him
In December 2005, my father, mother, and husband chipped in and bought me my first "real" camera, the Nikon D70.
It was my father's idea. My father and I had our issues, but he was very supportive of my photography. He was genuinely excited for me.
It was because of the D70 that I got the attention of the advertising firm who was working on Nikon's new ad campaign. In August of 2006, right before I got pregnant with Willa, I was chosen to be one of the lucky few who was featured in the ad campaign and given Nikon's new camera, the D80.
Since then, I have had the luxury of having two great cameras
A few weeks ago someone very close to me called to ask me my advice-
Long story short- His wife is a makeup artist. His line of work has practically dried up since the recession hit. They are struggling to pay their bills. They have one child and another on the way. His wife works with a lot of models, actors, and musicians. He started to shoot some head shots for these people with his dinky point and shoot. He wanted to know if there was a decent camera he could get for cheap, so that he could perhaps actually make some money.
I gave him my camera.
In the weeks between me telling him I would give him the camera, and the time when I would actually see him in person to give him the camera, I started to have some anxiety.
I try very hard not to think about my father all the time. Maybe that's not the healthy thing to do, but it's what helps me deal. It's been two years since he died, and I'm losing pieces of him. If I let myself think about him too much then I lose sleep.
That camera is a piece of him. It is a symbol of his belief in me. And I never really thought about it until I was about to give it away.
As I was packing up the camera and it's supplies to give to its new owner, I felt like someone was sitting on my chest.
The time came for me to hand it over, and the minute I saw the look on his face, I was at peace.
As I watched him play with the camera, and shake his head in awe, I remembered what it felt like when I first held that camera. How unbelievably happy and excited I was. The potential that that camera stands for.
It is a gift to be able to make someone so happy. it is a gift to be able to give someone something they deserve.
My anxiety has completely faded and is now replaced by joy.
I hope my father felt the same joy when he gave me that camera.
Comments
I'm very proud of you. I love you. :)
Posted by: Tracy | September 16, 2009 09:31 PM
Awesome.
Good karma, all the way around.
I'm sure your father was watching & has never been more proud.
Posted by: Melissa | September 16, 2009 09:34 PM
Of course he felt that joy. And the joy that you felt when you gave it away was also a gift from your father. And it was a gift back to him, as well. Can you imagine how wonderful it would feel to know that you gave Willa the means to feel that good? That's what you gave back to your Dad. I hope that gift opens as many doors to opportunity for your friend as it did for you.
Posted by: Susie | September 16, 2009 10:12 PM
I so know where you're coming from. It is so difficult the balance of not forgetting them and not totally getting lost in the grief.
I'm sure your father is so proud of you for doing that.
Posted by: JustAnotherJenny | September 16, 2009 10:25 PM
I'm proud to call you my friend. xoxo
Posted by: metalia | September 16, 2009 10:37 PM
A beautiful story of truth.
Posted by: Kelly | September 16, 2009 10:58 PM
hi torrie, your'e just one of a few blogs i read regularly, i always enjoy what you have to 'say', and i can honestly say i've never been compelled to leave a comment on any of the blogs i read, so with this comment i just broke my 'commenter virginity'! but i wanted to express that today you made me weepy, peaceful and extremely happy for you. you rock.
Posted by: amanda | September 17, 2009 05:09 AM
I'm so glad of the joy you were left with! Just think, your dad wanted that camera for you for the same reasons you gave it to your friend, to enjoy photography. Plus the D80 is the result of your father's support, and any photography equipment you get as a result of that support, and you'll always have that (and beautiful pictures of Willa that you share)! :-)
Posted by: Jenski | September 17, 2009 10:45 AM
Hi, Torrie.. I don't think I've ever commented here before, but I just wanted to thank you for your post. I lost my father unexpectedly less than 8 weeks ago. On a daily basis I struggle to balance between being overwhelmed and stuffing it all away. It's simultaneously terrifying and reassuring to know that's not going to stop.
I hope all the best comes to your friend with the use of your camera. I'm sure if your father was anything like mine, or most fathers for that matter, his intentions were to give all the best, and you did just that by passing it on to someone who needed it. Now you have the memories of your father giving you the camera as well as the memories of helping someone else out with it, and I'm putting a lot of stock in memories these days.
Posted by: Eliza | September 17, 2009 11:16 AM
Scatter the joy.
Posted by: William | September 18, 2009 09:04 AM
Yay for giving and receiving joy!
Posted by: Alyce | September 18, 2009 08:36 PM
Dude, it's amazing that you gave him your camera. You rock. Your dad will be so proud.
Love,
me
Posted by: Ange | September 21, 2009 12:21 PM
Silly little things, my mother still had left in her bathroom after she died, like Sally Hansen Strong As Nails clear polish, and nail files and hair clips, I found on the weekends when I was at home, visiting. Even after she died she was still taking care of me, still had just that one thing I needed in a pinch. My friend Kim had surgery, and our thing is manicures together. I gave her that bottle of Sally Hansen, from my mother's cabinet after her surgery. Similarly, instantly regretted it, yearned to have it back, almost asked for it back! But, I didn't. And I'm glad now.
Posted by: shana mcqueen | September 21, 2009 04:45 PM
Your dad just melted a heart upstate. Bet he'd be proud.
Posted by: Amanda | September 21, 2009 10:08 PM
YOU are a piece of your father. You can never lose that. & you give a piece of him to everyone you encounter, because good or bad he has had an influence on the type of human you have become. So giving away the camera was not just giving away a piece of your father it was also giving away a piece of yourself.
Posted by: BryanX9X | September 28, 2009 11:29 AM
I'm sure that your Dad felt joy and hope. I find that when we give we end up getting far more in return. Your story inspires me to be kind to all that I meet today...thank you!
Posted by: Jacki | September 29, 2009 09:24 AM
This entry was so moving. I do not normally comment but I really wanted to thank you for sharing this story. It reminded me at a moment when I really needed to be reminded that we assign meaning to things but those things are only meaningful if they benefit those around them. Your father's spirit of generosity and support for a passion of yours continues to give to others. It will help this family find a means to support themselves so your gesture based on his generosity will help a man, a wife and a child and a new baby.
Thank you again.
Posted by: Kristan | October 9, 2009 11:39 AM