As many of you know, my dad had surgery last week. He's battled with cancer for several years now, and last week my parents drove to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN to do surgery to remove a tumor in his abdomen. 

This was my dad's second surgery at Mayo. It was a little deja vu for all of us... I felt like I photographed this all before. :)

My in-laws were sweet enough to join us for a few hours in the morning while we waited for dad to be admitted. 

Once we found out when dad's surgery was going to be, Sunil and I made plans to be there. Our drive was a nightmare: the road conditions were awful, the blowing snow gave us visibility that was next to nothing, and the whole trip ended up being so long that we didn't even arrive until 5am. 

And I'd do it all again in a heart beat. 

Once admitted, the gown goes on, the tests are run, and the waiting game begins. 

Waiting for doctors. Waiting for the operating room. Waiting for everything to begin. 

Since dad has had surgery there before, we were able to connect with some doctors that have worked with (and on) dad in the past. We will be forever grateful for their skill. 

Another room to wait in. Another hour goes by. 

Waiting is the hardest part. 

Then someone walks in. "Sir, a nurse is coming up here to take you away." 

Dad makes a joke to make my mother laugh. But we're all holding back tears. 

Hugs.

We say goodbye and watch him walk off. Afraid. Anxious. Ready for it to be over. 

Then the nurse takes us to the room he'll be in after surgery. Sometimes God makes us laugh - it was the same exact room he was in almost 18 months ago. 

We wait. We pray. We watch movies. We cry a little bit. 

We hear the good news - he's done. We wait for his return. Everything moves in slow motion until he arrives... then it's all a blur.

Too intimate for photos. Some things are just too close to the heart to photograph. 

The following day we celebrate little victories: his first meal, his first time sitting up, his first walk. 

And we Skype with grandkids to cheer him up. 

A few hours later, it's time for us to leave. We need to go home. 

But we leave knowing he's safe. 

And we trust that God will bring healing. 

Legacy. It's a big word. As my dad's journey with cancer progresses (praising God for more clear scans!) I think more and more often of this word and what it means. Since my father's diagnosis a few years ago, it's been on my heart to reach out and help others that are affected by cancer and disease. That's when I started offering legacy sessions - an opportunity to capture life as it happens, amidst the grief.

Enter Chrissy.

Chrissy's grandmom has Alzheimer's, and has lived with Chrissy and her family for quite some time now. The past year has been difficult - watching someone you love slowly fade away is never an easy thing - but Chrissy and her family's joy, despite their grief, continues. While my family has yet to be affected by this specific heart-wrenching disease, Chrissy and I have connected in such a way that only two people who carry such grief can, and I'm humbled and challenged each time I interact with her and her family.

Chrissy invited me over to photograph and document a few hours of the life of her family and her grandmom, and the day was made so much sweeter by the presence of grandmom's sister and son who were both visiting from out of town.

Life is raw. I left with a heavy, but oh-so-full heart. The privilege was all mine.