I often remember the friends and strangers who helped me following my father's suicide. Even when I could barely function, I hoped that some day I would help others who had suffered loss. Exactly five years after I flew to Las Vegas to plan my father's funeral and organize his "estate," I spent the day with families who had lost a child.
We spent about eight hours together. Afterward, I was exhausted, more by the summer sun than by the emotions. The families inspired me. While the families might not feel strong now, they are doing important work. They are supporting each other, keeping their families together, and grieving for children who were supposed to plan their grieving parents' funerals.
On the drive home, I heard the phrase "misery loves company." Usually this expression is used to isolate people who are feeling sad, or to judge people for "making others feel bad." In the context of my day with Mothers with Angels, I contemplated how this expression reflects our society's views about grieving.
While there are times when I want to be alone, I often want company, whether I am sad or happy. Why shouldn't the miserable people want company? Happy people are not expected to celebrate alone. Why would those in misery be any different? We are social creatures, and after we lose loved ones, we are likely to be miserable for a long time... nt forever and not all the time, but for a long time.
When I am sad, I want to be around people who understand sadness. When I am happy, I want to be around people who appreciate happiness. In the photos below, sometimes people appear happy. Perhaps the mothers felt happiness, because they are in the company of fellow travelers; perhaps they can feel their "angel's presence" or God's presence. Perhaps the families are happy, because they know they are helping others. Perhaps, these mothers would not call the feeling happiness, but something else -- maybe a relief from misery... and if I helped in easing their misery, I am happy, because I know that easing misery is a gift not forgotten.
notes to the photos, below the gallery
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Mothers of Angels - Images by bryan farley
Quick notes about the photos:
All but two of the Mothers of Angels have tattoos of their children. The gallery's first photo is from a newer member who lost her teen-age son when he was hit by a car while riding a skate board. Later that afternoon, I photographed the mother at her son's favorite skateboard park. (I have known this woman since we were children.)
At a cemetery, we visited a family who lost a daughter (and sister). When the girl died, she was about the same age as my daughter who starts Kindergarten next week. Occasionally, medical professionals make mistakes. Sometimes, these mistakes are fatal, and from what I know, it cost this family their oldest child.
Another woman lost her young child to cancer. For a year, she watched her daughter die. We photographed her with a tree planted in her daughter's honor. Across the river, we could see Valley Children's Hospital, the place the mother called, "their home away from home."
Several women have lost children to accidents. I photographed a woman who lost her son when he was 26. By then, he was also a father. I included photographs of the mother and her grandson, as well as the grandson's mother and uncle. The little boy's mother also has a tattoo. The woman who lost her son is one of the two group members who doesn't have a tattoo. She thinks that she is too old for one, but she is only a few years older than I am.
The group meets weekly, usually in the back room of pizza place/restaurant. For this session, we met at the group leader's house. In her back yard, there is a tribute garden to their 17 year old son. He was a passenger in a fatal car crash. The community contributed to the garden, including the driver's family; the driver knew the son for years.
I photographed nine Mothers of Angels members for the group shot. More attend weekly meetings, and more members will continue to join the group. If you know anyone in Central California who could benefit by joining the group, please feel free to contact me, and I will help connect people.
To see the entire gallery of 160 photos, click here.
to view the book:
With your words you captured the intent of our friendship network and with your pictures you captured the essence of our friendships. It is through your own compassion that you were able to look past the smiles of that day and see the hearts within the mothers you met. Both the gathering together and whom we gather with, has made a difference in the daily journey each of us tredge through as we struggle with the grief of losing our son or daughter. Whereas many don't understand our need to intertwine these grief stricken lives, you seen, felt and captured what others look past. I feel it is a tribute to your ability to look at the "bigger picture" rather than what is right in front of your view. With your pictures as our reference, we too will be looking back with a "big picture" outlook on how these friendships helped in the common journey that was laid before each of us. You have blessed all of our lives and families lives by capturing this moment in time. And for now, a moment of happiness is a gift indeed. Thank you for your gift of insight through film.
Posted by: Martha Tessmer, Founder of Mother-of-an-Angel Friendship Network | August 23, 2009 at 09:40 PM
Your gift is much bigger than the photographs you've produced through your art. Your gift of understanding, compassion and acceptance is what I will treasure the most of this adventure. The purity of what you've captured and documented in your photos is what makes me cry...tears not of sadness nor tears of happiness. I don't know how to better describe the emotions that I feel than you did. You didn't just take our pictures, you allowed yourself to be a part of our journey and somehow you understand. Thank you, Bryan. Your friendship is a lifelong treasure.
Posted by: Kimberley Libecki, Zachary Reynolds Armistead's mother (9/23/93 - 12/2/08 and eternity) | August 24, 2009 at 01:38 PM
You never stop amazing me Bro! I love you and all that you do for others (including myself). As you once said to me in 1986, "take care and take risks!"
Danny Steinhauer
Posted by: Daniel Steinhauer | August 26, 2009 at 07:34 PM
I read your message about your dad and the mom's angels a few weeks ago and have thought about it often. I wanted to respond back with something meaningful and worthy, but didn't know what to say. I could feel the pain in your words about your dad and wished I could have helped some how. I'm sure your support and photos about the children and their families meant more to them than you could know. After reading it, my keyboard looked like it sprang a leak! I couldn't imagine what they go through in their daily lives. We're supposed to go first. I could whirl myself into hysterical tears with just the thought of being in their place. My heart goes out to them. When I delivered my first son, someone told me that having children is like having your heart forever walking around outside your body. How true.
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