One thing photographs do to comfort us in a small way is to remind us of lost loved ones in happier and healthier times. This is myself and my cousin Liz at her wedding in 1987—a picture I'd never seen until yesterday. Liz died very early last Sunday morning, at the age of 55, after a horrendously difficult eight-year-long struggle with breast cancer that was worse than anything anyone should have to bear in dying. During her illness she never wavered, living way past numerous doctors' predictions of her death with an astonishing degree of courage, determination, selflessness, and love—for her loyal husband, children, sisters, friends, and grandchildren.
The procession was a mile long and the church was crowded as we all had to say goodbye. It was enormously sad. Yet I also could not help but sense the joy that obviously so many felt in the privilege of knowing Liz.
Mike
(Thanks to Chris)
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Featured Comments from:
EMR: "When anybody ask me what's my photographs collection for, I always tell them the same: to remind me [of] people like Liz. People in a life that's worth living. Please accept my condolences for the loss of Liz."
Mike replies: Thank you, and thank you to everyone who expressed condolences.
Tom Bell: "Hi Mike, there are no words here. In my 30 years as a family doctor here on the north edges of Dartmoor in England it is with such sadness that these things happen to my patients; not only to them of course, but affecting their friends, family, lovers and children...and sometimes parents and grandparents. More recently to my own friends and family. Two years ago my sister died suddenly whilst I was with her. The loss is always deeply felt. What sustains me in all this is the deep love that comes to and from people as they and their families wrestle with their sadness and grief. The sadness is deep and never leaves. What we love one day we will lose.... Or if that love is mutual, we will be lost to them.
"On the other side is the strength of family. The memories good and bad of our fragile and wonderful imperfect lives. Pictures of us all when younger remind me of hope, of dreams and of the life lived through all its pain and glory. The picture you have of the two of you bristles with life. Beautiful.
"Thinking of you and Liz and all who surround you."
Ed Kirkpatrick: "I have looked at this photo four times now because the admiration and love she expresses in this photo is truly wonderful. I would say you were a lucky man to have such a cousin and I am sorry to hear about her long struggle with such a terrible disease."
Richard Ripley: "I am very sorry for your loss. I was looking over old photos yesterday for the new Apple Photos app and tagging Faces for identification in the app when I came across a photograph of my brother who died last August. I was completely overwhelmed by the photograph and started crying. Photographs can be strong links to loved ones and loves, the past and our memories. Thank you for sharing what has been happening. I will be thinking of you and your family."
Sal Santamaura: "Despite my agreement with BWJones on the upside-down nature of U.S. funding priorities, it seems we may be close to getting a handle on how to defeat this illness (these illnesses, really). If you haven't yet seen it, this '60 Minutes' two-part report details a promising new treatment direction. I fear Liz might have left you only a few years before it will be possible to turn cancer into something that can be cured or handled as a chronic condition. Condolences."
Mike replies: That's wonderfully hopeful. Thanks Sal. There's a surprisingly hopeful and positive short essay about feeling poorly and feeling well at the New York Review of Books called "A General Feeling of Disorder" by Oliver Sacks that I can recommend in return.
I am sorry for your loss. One often wonders whether it is better to die quickly, but then there is little or no time to say goodbye. I've experienced close family members deaths in both ways, and I cannot come down on one side or the other. From what I've been able to glean from press accounts, Leonard Nimoy may have had the better way. Regardless, again, I'm sorry.
Posted by: Mike R | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 04:10 PM
So sorry for the lost of your cousin. My Dad passed away last year after a 23 year battle with this dreadful disease. He was initially given 3 months to live after being diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. Your last sentence made me smile in memory of my Dad.Thank you...
Posted by: Chester Williams | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 04:19 PM
sincere condolences Mike on your sad loss.
Posted by: Michael Roche | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 04:27 PM
Mike, my condolences. People like your cousin are Saints that show the rest of us what the human spirit is capable of.
Posted by: Tim McGowan | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 05:19 PM
Just to take a wild, blind stab at the possibilities here, I find that Eli Harari of SanDisk is like the 157th wealthiest individual in the world, worth several billion dollars, and if you were sitting three abreast in the airplane's coach compartment -- you, the pilot and Eli -- on a flight into Indianapolis, I suspect (I could be wrong) that you had a different Harari. Or Harrari.
Indianapolis is a pretty good airport, although I think pilots have different criteria than passengers. I don't like LaGuardia, but I don't hate it, either -- but if I had to pilot an airplane in there, it'd scare the s--t out of me. Very quick into town, though. Still, I prefer Newark.*
As a passenger, Miami and Denver are at the top of my dislike list. Miami is the total third-world experience: you don't have to leave home to get it. At Denver, you can pay $80 (with modest tip) for a cab ride to town, or from downtown back to the airport. Are you kiddin' me? LAX is chaotic, but, you can work your way through it if you don't mind chaos. Big problem at Phoenix is that it's a tiresome fifteen-minute shuttle ride (on jammed shuttles) to the rental car complex; not good when it's 105F. Always kinda liked Seatac. In Minneapolis, it's a five-minute walk from the plane to a rental car, and the airport's okay, too. Austin doesn't have good reading material; maybe they don't read there. DFW is good; I'm always passing through, rather than stopping, so I don't know about the car rentals. Atlanta is one place you don't want to go if you're tripping on acid, with that underground tunnel and the lights; if I'd gone there in 1969, I might still be standing there. Don't know why people don't like Chicago, I've never had a problem with either of the big airports, although I once went to the wrong one. St. Louis is okay.
*Actually, piloting a plane into anywhere would scare the s--t out of me, since I'm not a pilot.
Posted by: John Camp | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 05:34 PM
I am so sorry... This is something that we are hearing too often it seems.
Despite our "War on Cancer" declared by Nixon, we've not done all we can as a country in funding the science of cancer or cancer treatments. If we really did mean to fight a war on cancer, we'd be funding the NIH at levels we do for the DOD. A differential in funding that is sadly large and not in the right direction.
Posted by: BWJones | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 07:16 PM
photos are important.
Posted by: g. carvajal | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 07:18 PM
My sincere sympathy, Mike.
From the photo, it is very obvious that you were a much loved cousin.
Posted by: Michael Cytrynowicz | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 08:17 PM
Mike,
Please accept my condolences for the loss of what sounds like an extraordinary family member.
The snapshot you've posted with this story is, of course, an excellent reminder of one of photography's most valuable and powerful roles in the world.
Posted by: Kenneth Tanaka | Saturday, 25 April 2015 at 11:01 PM
My heart goes out to you Mike. The best memorial we have in such times is to remember the person as they were were. Take care.
Posted by: Nick D | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 06:36 AM
John:
I feel as though somehow we all vicariously join in your sadness and send my condolences to your family.
Best to you all.
Hugh
Posted by: Hugh Smith | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 08:32 AM
Deepest condolences on the death of your cousin. It is particularly sad when someone so young dies after such a hard struggle.
Posted by: Thomas Basista | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 09:02 AM
So sorry for your loss. Bill
Posted by: Bill Wheeler | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 09:12 AM
Condolences to you and yours.
Posted by: Bob Rosinsky | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 11:52 AM
May I add my condolences to those already expressed.
There are no words that help much in times like this but pictures like the one you posted can do better. They help us remember the joys of happier times, - And they do become treasures.
Perhaps we should all take a snap of someone we care about in memory of your Cousin Liz, and as recognition of how important such pictures are.
Be Well, and Thanks for the reminder.
Michael
Posted by: Michael Perini | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 03:37 PM
My condolences, Mike. She sounds like an amazing person.
I have lost a few close friends and both parents to cancer. Even though you know how it will end, it doesn't make it any easier, but it is extraordinary and humbling how bravely some people deal with it.
Posted by: Steve Jacob | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 04:16 PM
I am sorry for your loss Mike.
Posted by: beuler | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 04:53 PM
Dear Mike
Sorry for loss. It sounds as your cousin was very loved and she in turn returned that love. There is no better way to live a life than to love and be loved. I hope that you may find measure of comfort in that.
Posted by: Paul Amyes | Sunday, 26 April 2015 at 07:46 PM
My condolences. Most of us never knew your cousin, but we are all saddened by her loss. As Donne wrote, centuries ago:
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
Posted by: Bill Tyler | Monday, 27 April 2015 at 02:28 AM
Mike,
A wonderful picture of the two of you. Surely a beautiful way to remember her. I offer my condolences for your loss. I lost my wife after nine years with this awful illness. Been there, bought the T shirts. The biggest loss is for all of the memories my daughter won't have. The greatest gift is all the lives she touched. I'm sure it was the same for Liz. Cherish them, as I know you will.
All the best to you and your family.
Posted by: Warren Maas | Monday, 27 April 2015 at 01:24 PM
Mike,
It is through photographs of my best friend who passed far too soon (Feb of this year) that memories of our time together are jogged free. Cancer took his body, but photos captured the soul of a life well lived.
My heart-felt condolences to you and yours.
Budd
Posted by: Budd Riker | Monday, 27 April 2015 at 01:57 PM
This post really touched me, Mike. I'll echo what Ed Kirkpatrick said. This photo of her really captures the adoration and love she must have had for you. I liked her as soon as I saw the photo and your words confirmed my first impression. I'm so sorry to hear she passed. It's unusual for me to get emotional about the death of a stranger but the photo and your words effected me.
Posted by: Caleb Courtrau | Tuesday, 28 April 2015 at 08:09 AM