Pops

so, usually this blog is mostly photos and little words. i don’t really write as much as i used to, i admit. typically i feel like it’s probably for the better.

for this post, i’m going to change that a bit.

on the morning of april 18th this year, around quarter past nine in the morning, i got a phone call from my mother that no one can ever prepare for. my father had passed away unexpectedly in the night.

the week that followed felt like a year, but at the same time was over with in what seemed like minutes. i feel like i had to do a whole lot of growing up in a very short amount of time. doing things you think you might do one day, but they seem unrealistic. life moves pretty fast, it’s true.

i’ve thought a lot in the few months since. about my father, my relationships, everything. trying to face things i hadn’t before. i’ve never lost someone truly so close. when it comes down to it though, the thing i’ve realized the most is just how much my father meant to me and how much i miss him. the little things he did day to day that used to seem silly to me mean so much more now that i’m looking in the rear-view mirror to see him.

when my father passed away, this silly blog that might get 50 hits on the day i make a post and link to it lost it’s biggest fan. my dad was the first person to subscribe to this blog that has managed less than 20 subscribers in nearly six years. once he figured out the subtle nuances of facebook a few years ago he started sharing my posts to his friends, all several dozen of them. i joked when i eulogized him that i would make a blog post and he would share it on facebook within minutes – i would look at my site views and see maybe three views from one person and it wasn’t hard to figure it out who the viewer was. it was funny to me back in the day to make fun of him for it. but now, it makes me smile. i’ve never really felt like i make people proud. my dad was really good at making me feel like he was proud of me and it meant so much for a kid that grew up failing class after class and getting in trouble. i swear i never took a picture that my dad didn’t like. i guess that’s just part of being a dad. i would get home from high school after being chewed out by some brainless moron of a teacher about how i have no future and all my dad would ask was “how was the darkroom today?” and ask to see some new prints. that was all i needed. to the parents out there: i hope you know that the small supportive things you do can really change a lot.

the only reason i have this blog or anything i have currently right now is because of my dad. his father (my papa) sent a camera that he used to use as a private eye that he wasn’t using anymore to my house when i was an early teenager. my dad used to love taking pictures but had fallen out of the habit, and the new camera gave him an excuse to start again. he used to asked me to come shoot with him, and we’d take turns using one camera. when we would get the pictures back, i was hooked. we’d go out and shoot every few weeks for a few hours together. that led to photography classes in high school, my first high marks in years. that led to an independent study in photography and my first gig as a teacher’s assistant in my senior year of school. that led to me going to new england school of photography in the fall of 2005, which led to me meeting several incredibly important people and getting a job i love and also, almost ten years later, led to almost every single friend i have now, including my girlfriend. seriously.

it’s the whole thing they say about the ripples that are created from throwing a pebble into a pond.

so, pops.

my dad, richard james faraci, on the top left with my mother, me as a baby, my sister and my brother.

dad playing with polaroids.

my sister-in-law, my brother, myself, dad and mom in 2007, shot for my self-portrait series at nesop.

a mess-up shot i found that i took during one of our shooting trips. by this time we both had cameras and it was a lot easier.

if you can’t tell, my dad didn’t really like being photographed. he would be so embarrassed by this post.

that is, until you get him with a car. some time in the early 1960s, i assume.

with his beloved el camino on father’s day, 2013. spend all this money on cameras and photography school and the best portrait you ever get of your father is taken with your iphone for instagram. ain’t life funny.

i had my camera with me during the burial service and for some reason i just wanted to remember the moment. somer to my left, and my mother to the right.

the last portrait.

i don’t want this post to be morbid or sad! life just comes at you quick, and the nostalgic soul in me can’t just let father’s day slide by. in time, all things change no matter how we feel about it. just remember to stop and smell the roses, right? keep on inspiring.

happy father’s day, and thanks for looking.

<3w.