My father and his wife lived in the same house in Springfield, New Jersey for over 30 years. Due to financial constraints and the limitations of their age to care for a home, they were forced to move. The burdensome task of packing up decades of belongings and memories is daunting for anyone, let alone a couple in their eighties.

During the time I began shooting this series, my dad was brought to the hospital with symptoms of extreme fatigue, weakness and a horrible cough. This turned into the beginning of the end of what we knew his life to be. Surely if he made it out of the hospital at all, it would be a compromised life for him at best.  But it was the mental toll of his illness that in fact posed the biggest challenge, as he began to creep into Dementia.

Photographing him at this pivotal time has brought up many conflicting emotions for us both. It was often that I felt the pain of inadequacy during my childhood -- often resulting from my father’s insensitivity and anger. There was also the bad divorce from my mother who had passed away nearly a decade earlier, making this project that much more urgent. But relationships are complicated and time has a way of altering our perception of the past. Along wiith the disease, my father was becoming an altered version of himself. 

A rhythm developed as each time he would happily submit to the ritual of our shoot. The process became an existential extension of our father-daughter bond, and a catharsis for aging, and acceptance. By simply sharing this experience, we could succumb to the harsh reality of his illness without having to engage directly with our disappointments and loss.