Light.
The Fantastic Trip.
"Don't worry about me...", Bernie said. "I'm not going anywhere."
I pushed the IV rack out of the way and knelt down beside his hospital bed so I was looking him in the eye. It was an overwhelming moment for me as I knew he was. It was just a matter of time.
He was curled on his side in a fetal position, unable to move and barely able to speak. The hospital was keeping him heavily medicated to keep him comfortable.
I knelt there in front of his gaze for what seemed like an eternity. The periphery of the dim lit hospital room a backdrop to his face.
"Is there anything you need me to do for you Bernie?", I asked.
"No."
I reached up and took his hand and knew these moments were the last I would have with him. It had all arrived at this and I wasn't ready. 44 years I had been on this planet and for almost all 44 Bernie had been in my life as a father figure, best friend, confidant, brother, role model, inspiration, protector, guide and any number of labels. He had instilled and nurtured the very core values, morals and creativity that I built my life's foundation on. It is impossible for me to deconstruct my essence without finding a part of Bernie and his influence there.
"Bernie.......I love you.", I said. The tears were starting to flood my eyes and my throat was closing up. "It's going to OK. You don't need to be scared. Thank you for everything Bernie."
I stood up still holding his hand and leaned over and kissed him on his head and absorbed all I could from those precious seconds. I knew that this was the last time I would be able to touch him or be near him. It was time to let go. Time was not my friend.
I walked out of the triage unit and the grief overwhelmed me. The tears flowed as I walked out of the hospital and out to my car. Once in my car and alone, I sat there on that bitter cold January day, and cried. The emotion just flowed and I didn't even try to stop it. This parking lot was no stranger to people sitting alone crying in their cars I imagined.
I cried for most of the afternoon as the emotion was roiling. So close to the surface as my mind desperately tried to recall all the good times and laughter and tears Bernie and I had shared over the decades. He had watched me grow from a baby to a man and held many of my deepest secrets and knew me as well as anyone could. It was a devastating loss for me.
I received the news of his passing the day after the next on 01.23.2019. He had went into a coma later in the day after I had seen him and never woke again.
Although I knew it was an inevitable message to receive, the pain and shock was still, nonetheless, as potent. It hurt. It tore. It ripped. It un-tethered. It boiled. It screamed. It was deafeningly silent. It was hot. It was cold.
It was over. He was gone.
I spent the rest of the day in deep reflection and emotional exhaust as I worked on mindless tasks. I just drifted and eventually went upstairs to lay down for bed after many hours. Then.....it just happened. Without thought, without intention, without purpose, I grabbed my camera and set it up for long exposure and sat there on my bed and began taking pictures of the TV in the bedroom that I had a movie playing on. For the next hour I played like a child with the camera, revelling at the photos I was taking and the magical feeling I hadn't felt in many years. Pure creative joy and abandon. The exact same inspiration Bernie had always given me and taught me to seek out in life.
It was like I was just a witness. It wasn't a direct idea or motive of mine. It had none of my ego attached to it. There was nothing of me other than my participation. I set up an Instagram account right away and the name was just there on it's own. Without question I put it in.
light_the_fantastic_trip
I selected one of the photos that I had just taken and uploaded it, unedited, other than the square crop that Instagram constrains to. I "knew" at that moment, not decided, that this would be something I would do every day moving forward. To enjoy the creative endeavor of these long exposure photographs and the intimate and personal engagement of just me and camera and creative force. To simply play and allow myself to be a tool of the outcome and just be in a moment and enjoy being alive. It is exactly the same feeling I had as a child when I first fell in love with art.
For many reasons I don't attach my name to this. No one in my personal life knows I do this project. No one. It is a complete secret except to the followers of the Instagram account. It is something I simply wish to anonymously share with the world and honour Bernie's life and contribution completely outside of his knowing, intention or conceiving.
The moments I get to spend doing this are the most precious of my day and are something I cherish. It is a true privilege to be able to be healthy and alive going through this experience and I love that it can be shared through Instagram.
We never know the effect or affect we will have on people around us whether they are alive or not even born yet. I know that Bernie would have been flattered and amazed at what his influence and life had inspired through this endeavour. It is my hope that someday, in some way, the ripples of these photos will spread and inspire in an infinite fashion and take these seeds and grow them in fantastic ways.
Thank you Bernie.
For everything.
I pushed the IV rack out of the way and knelt down beside his hospital bed so I was looking him in the eye. It was an overwhelming moment for me as I knew he was. It was just a matter of time.
He was curled on his side in a fetal position, unable to move and barely able to speak. The hospital was keeping him heavily medicated to keep him comfortable.
I knelt there in front of his gaze for what seemed like an eternity. The periphery of the dim lit hospital room a backdrop to his face.
"Is there anything you need me to do for you Bernie?", I asked.
"No."
I reached up and took his hand and knew these moments were the last I would have with him. It had all arrived at this and I wasn't ready. 44 years I had been on this planet and for almost all 44 Bernie had been in my life as a father figure, best friend, confidant, brother, role model, inspiration, protector, guide and any number of labels. He had instilled and nurtured the very core values, morals and creativity that I built my life's foundation on. It is impossible for me to deconstruct my essence without finding a part of Bernie and his influence there.
"Bernie.......I love you.", I said. The tears were starting to flood my eyes and my throat was closing up. "It's going to OK. You don't need to be scared. Thank you for everything Bernie."
I stood up still holding his hand and leaned over and kissed him on his head and absorbed all I could from those precious seconds. I knew that this was the last time I would be able to touch him or be near him. It was time to let go. Time was not my friend.
I walked out of the triage unit and the grief overwhelmed me. The tears flowed as I walked out of the hospital and out to my car. Once in my car and alone, I sat there on that bitter cold January day, and cried. The emotion just flowed and I didn't even try to stop it. This parking lot was no stranger to people sitting alone crying in their cars I imagined.
I cried for most of the afternoon as the emotion was roiling. So close to the surface as my mind desperately tried to recall all the good times and laughter and tears Bernie and I had shared over the decades. He had watched me grow from a baby to a man and held many of my deepest secrets and knew me as well as anyone could. It was a devastating loss for me.
I received the news of his passing the day after the next on 01.23.2019. He had went into a coma later in the day after I had seen him and never woke again.
Although I knew it was an inevitable message to receive, the pain and shock was still, nonetheless, as potent. It hurt. It tore. It ripped. It un-tethered. It boiled. It screamed. It was deafeningly silent. It was hot. It was cold.
It was over. He was gone.
I spent the rest of the day in deep reflection and emotional exhaust as I worked on mindless tasks. I just drifted and eventually went upstairs to lay down for bed after many hours. Then.....it just happened. Without thought, without intention, without purpose, I grabbed my camera and set it up for long exposure and sat there on my bed and began taking pictures of the TV in the bedroom that I had a movie playing on. For the next hour I played like a child with the camera, revelling at the photos I was taking and the magical feeling I hadn't felt in many years. Pure creative joy and abandon. The exact same inspiration Bernie had always given me and taught me to seek out in life.
It was like I was just a witness. It wasn't a direct idea or motive of mine. It had none of my ego attached to it. There was nothing of me other than my participation. I set up an Instagram account right away and the name was just there on it's own. Without question I put it in.
light_the_fantastic_trip
I selected one of the photos that I had just taken and uploaded it, unedited, other than the square crop that Instagram constrains to. I "knew" at that moment, not decided, that this would be something I would do every day moving forward. To enjoy the creative endeavor of these long exposure photographs and the intimate and personal engagement of just me and camera and creative force. To simply play and allow myself to be a tool of the outcome and just be in a moment and enjoy being alive. It is exactly the same feeling I had as a child when I first fell in love with art.
For many reasons I don't attach my name to this. No one in my personal life knows I do this project. No one. It is a complete secret except to the followers of the Instagram account. It is something I simply wish to anonymously share with the world and honour Bernie's life and contribution completely outside of his knowing, intention or conceiving.
The moments I get to spend doing this are the most precious of my day and are something I cherish. It is a true privilege to be able to be healthy and alive going through this experience and I love that it can be shared through Instagram.
We never know the effect or affect we will have on people around us whether they are alive or not even born yet. I know that Bernie would have been flattered and amazed at what his influence and life had inspired through this endeavour. It is my hope that someday, in some way, the ripples of these photos will spread and inspire in an infinite fashion and take these seeds and grow them in fantastic ways.
Thank you Bernie.
For everything.
