Looking back now, I'm not sure how I would have preferred to be notified of my father's death. But at the time, the voicemail was just a terrible way to learn. Alone and not sure what the next few days would hold, I immediately telephoned my friend; I need a ride back to Chester County.
Never, in my years of being in hospitals, have I seen a hospital room so packed. It seemed the everyone who had once known the great man who was my father had showed up to pay their respects or perhaps hoping that they would arrive before he had passed. I was so rattled, so beside myself that night, uncharacteristically I did not have a camera by my side.
At that time my Leicas M3 and MP were constant companions. I would shoot Provia 400 processed to 3200 or 6400, or tmax 3200 processed and shot at 6400. It was a grainy, contrasty look that is definitely an acquired taste, one I share with what seems to be an ever smaller group of people.
By the time the funeral rolled around, I did have my 35mm equipment ready to go. My sister had specifically requested that I take some photos at the funeral, a request that, to this day could have been either just to occupy me or to actually make recordings for posterity. Needless to say, the emotions I was feeling on that day got in the way of my photography and my output was even lower quality and quantity than one would normally expect from me. The only shots that were exposed and focused correctly are these three, and I'm sure it's just me, but they still haunt me every time I see them.
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