Angel Shots
Tracy Lee • May 15, 2020
Although my husband and I have chosen new professions, persons often call upon us from our past, to photograph their families, and paint their portraits. Because we have retired from the world of luxury portraiture, we usually refer these clients to our daughter.
We retired from luxury portraiture ten years ago and moved to an obscure little village in East Texas, where we have settled into our retirement business, funeral service. One wonders how our past clients locate us. What motivates and drives them to search until they find us? Recently, I posed this very question to a past client and her response was deeply moving.
While searching for us, our client has taken her family to several photographers and artists, yet has been continually dissatisfied. “Their work”, she said, “does not capture the beauty of who we are inside. Their photographs merely document our physical characteristics.” She continued. “When I walk through my home, the portraits produced by you and Mike (my husband), continue to have the same breathtaking effect on me, that they did the first time I saw them.”
Our client is now a grandmother and wishes to capture the beauty of her grandchildren. I have complete confidence that our daughter will be able to capture her dream. Our daughter, like her father, is masterful with her camera.
So what about these portraits? What was our client saying about the timeless inner beauty captured within our work? Before becoming a mother, pictures really did not matter that much to me. When I had my first daughter, I, like many young moms, took my daughter to the mall for pictures whenever she had a birthday. It was not until I had my second daughter that I realized the profound impact of portraits.
My second daughter was nearly lost during pregnancy. Had it not been for Camp Pendleton Naval Hospital and their amazing prenatal and delivery staff, her life, and quite possibly my own, would have been lost. Twenty years ago, an expectant mother and her wee one rarely survived our pregnancy condition. Our seven-month pregnancy hospitalization took its toll, but we both survived her birth. However, it was not until her first birthday that I was finally confident that she would not slip away from my arms at a moments notice. It was then that I, at last, felt profound joy in my soul. I needed something to capture the beauty of her spirit, the happiness I felt as her mother, and the relief that I felt that she was finally out of the ever-present clutches of death.
I began searching for a photographer to take her picture. I took her to so many photographers and spent so much money; yet, not one of them gave me what I wanted. Each time, all I received was a picture of her physical countenance. I wanted something that expressed what I felt in my soul. I wanted something that captured the importance of what she and I had experienced together. I wanted to see the evidence of our epic battle and our triumph over the odds of death. I wanted my heart to rejoice and my eyes to well with tears every time I looked upon her portrait, and I never wanted to forget the amazing gift her life was to me. Still, no matter how far I traveled, no matter how diligently I searched and explained what I wanted, and no matter how much I paid; the portrait never materialized. In desperation, I finally turned to my husband.
The Chief did not seriously believe that I expected him to take our daughter’s picture. After all, he had just retired from the US Navy as a Boatswains Mate, not a photographer. I, however, had every confidence in him. He was the only other person on earth who knew what I had been through, who knew what this portrait meant to me, and who understood exactly what I wanted. As such, he was the only person on earth who could produce it, and that is exactly what he did.
He took our daughter’s picture in our garage with feathered wings that I had glued together. When we went to the mall and developed the film, I could not breathe, my eyes welled with tears, and I clutched it to my chest. It was exactly what I wanted, what I needed. My heart delighted in the glorious expression of her beauty, her battle for life, and our triumph over the clutches of the grim reaper. He had not taken her picture; he had produced the most glorious portrait of a human soul that I had ever seen. To this day, twenty years later, as I walk through my home, every time my eyes rest upon my daughter’s beautiful angel portrait, tears well up in my eyes and my heart rejoices. I pause and offer thanks for the blessings in my life, namely for my children, the sparing of my life and that of my wee one so long ago, and for my beloved husband.
Why do I write of portraits and past clients this morning from a business my husband and I have long since retired? I do so because, like me, pictures may not be all that important to you. You may have them tossed in a drawer or stowed away somewhere safe. Pictures in a drawer today take up space; however, a brush with tragedy magically changes their value into priceless family heirlooms. I was fortunate. When tragedy brushed against me, it did not take my daughter and me away with it. You may not be so fortunate.
Day after day, I meet in my arrangement room with clients who have traveled through life as I once did - oblivious to the importance of pictures. However, their brush with tragedy has ended differently than my own. They are in my arrangement because their brush has ended with loss. Now as they sit across the table from me, I see families torn apart over something that yesterday was so trivial to them, but today means the world to them; pictures. Families who fifteen minutes earlier walked into the funeral home united in sorrow, now sit slinging insults across the table over their treasured images, not willing to share them or let them go to someone who might benefit from possessing them.
If I could roll the clocks back for these families, I would share these simple words of wisdom. “Here today, gone tomorrow.” When a loved one dies, pictures become treasured heirlooms, and, if there are but few, may become a source of contention among the survivors. By simply having spare prints, your family can avoid this terrible heartache upon your death. Fighting over a precious few pictures can drive a wedge through your family from which they may never recover. It's so tragic for families who no longer speak to each other over a picture that proudly hangs in the home of one as a treasured heirloom, yet burns wounds of sorrow through the barren walls of others.
Portraits are mirrors of the past. Take them often, value them, and share them with those you love.
My name is Tracy Renee Lee. I am the owner and Managing Funeral Director at Queen City Funeral Home in Queen City Texas. I am an author, syndicated columnist, and certified grief counselor. I write books and weekly bereavement articles related to understanding and coping with grief. I am the American Funeral Director of the Year Runner-Up and recipient of the BBB’s Integrity Award. I deliver powerful messages and motivate audiences toward positive recovery. It is my life's work to comfort the bereaved and help them live on.
The past two weeks have been difficult for me. I have suffered the loss of a dear friend and have served families that have suffered great losses. The COVID-19 pandemic has caused unwarranted loss, stress, and heartache to so many people this year. Not only have we lost loved ones, but we have lost our economy, our comfort, and our security as Americans. Everywhere I look, it seems that people are rude and uncaring toward each other when what we need is love. I wish we could be kind to each other, considerate to each other, and help each other through our difficulties rather than burning cities, burning businesses, and tearing apart what makes up great, our Union. Americans are the most blessed people in the world. We live in a time of convenience and wealth. Why is it then that we can’t add kindness and respect to our society? Why must there be murders and brutal attacks on innocent people walking down the street? I work with families every day who would give all that they have for just one more moment with their loved one to say, “I’m sorry” or “I love you.” Time is so precious, but even more precious is the way that we treat others. For if we treat others with contempt, we will reap the bitter reward of hatred. Hate eats a person from the inside out, and no matter how hard a hateful person tries to find happiness, it will never come to them. I know this because I see it every day. A hateful heart has no room for happiness. Happiness only comes to those who love. Love is like light. Light is the only thing that is stronger than the dark. If you have a completely dark room and you strike a match, the light from that match will push the darkness away and light up the room. Conversely, if you have a room filled with light and you cup your hands to create a spot of darkness. As soon as you open your hands, the dark is gone. Light overpowers it just as love overpowers hate. Love is the only thing that is stronger than hate. If you strike an ember of love in the heart of someone full of hate, love will grow and overtake their hatred. In my profession, love is very important. I see all too often those who have pushed love aside thinking that they were winning an argument or for some other ridiculous reason. What I see when this happens is that at the end of life, those who were foolish and let hatred get the best of them suffer the most. They remain miserable for the rest of their lives. Don’t be one of these people. Don’t let hatred get the best of you. And most assuredly, let us not allow hatred to overtake our country. I don’t want to live in a world filled with hatred and discontent. I want happiness and love for all. I especially want love in your life when you suffer loss because believe me, when the grim reaper knocks, it’s too late to cry for one more moment to say, “I’m sorry” or “I love you.” At that moment, the weight of hatred crushes every hope you ever had to make amends, to accomplish happiness, or to right any wrong you may have perpetrated. It’s too late and you are the person who will suffer the consequences of your vicious actions. You are the person who will have no friends, no love, and who will die alone; miserable because of your hatred and terrible deeds. I know because I see it in so many people who thought they could just make a statement, a judgment, or an action and not suffer the consequences. In the end, it’s the hateful people who suffer the consequences. They die alone without love or support. Their needs are not met and they writhe in misery. I lost a dear friend this past week. He was kind, loving, and good. He made the world a better place, and he made my life happier through his actions of kindness toward me. I wish everyone alive could have known my friend. Christ died to make man holy, and my friend John took up his offer. John was a holy man. He lived his life serving others, teaching others, and helping anyone who needed help. He was filled with love and he shared his love with those who needed it. If we could all be like John, the world would be an amazingly happy and beautiful place. John is gone and I feel the weight of his loss deeply in my soul. He leaves a legacy of service to our nation, service to Christ, and service to anyone who needed it. He was a good man, a great man, and now he is gone. I will have the honor of directing his memorial service in a few days. The church will be bursting as those who John served make their way there to express their sorrow and love for him. I will be one of those people. John’s legacy will continue in his absence because he ignited goodness, love, and service in the hearts of those about him. May we all understand and embrace John’s mission in life to serve and love our fellow beings. Doing so will bring us the greatest rewards. It will fill our lives with the greatest gifts on earth; joy, happiness, and love. This is my prayer for you, for our nation, and for the world during this time of uncertainty and discontent. Thank you, John, for being my friend, and my God bless you as you arrive home, never to suffer more, the pains of the world nor heartaches of men. Godspeed.
I received a first call late last night and was therefore at the hospital when I ran into an acquaintance of mine. As we spoke, she told me that her father had recently died. She began to cry and I offered to send over a set of my grief books (Mourning Light I, II, & III) to her office the following morning. I wrote her a sympathy card and delivered the books about 15 minutes ago. She had not yet arrived at her office, so I left the books and card with her secretary. The following is the note I wrote in the sympathy card. I thought I would share it, in hopes that it might help others who mourn as well. Dear Friend, February will be the 2nd anniversary of my grandson’s death. It is said that “Death is Final”; that is untrue. The pain and loneliness remain in my soul, and it feels as though I held his lifeless body, yesterday, in my arms. That day broke me; it almost killed me. Had I not had the love and support of my husband and children, I don’t think my sanity would have remained with me. The pain continues to crush my soul with anguish. There are 4 things that have helped me survive the debilitating pain of losing my grandson, and I wanted to share them with you in hopes that you might find peace in them as well. Prayer Prayer was, and continues to be, my saving grace. Without the love and promise of Christ’s redeeming grace, peace would remain unobtainable. Recounting my Experience Sharing my story out loud made it real. It took away my fear. It gave me power over the chaos of pain. Information As a certified grief counselor, knowing what to expect and whether it was normal or abnormal helped keep my worries at bay. The books that I have sent over are filled with information, plainly and simply written, to help you understand and identify the symptoms of grief, as well as recovery’s signs and secrets. Journaling Writing down my anguishes, thoughts, pains, worries, and fears helped me to let them go. I was able to organize myself, and it gave me hope for my future. I am sorry for the dreadful sorrow in your heart, and the pain that infiltrates your daily existence. I understand that breathing feels unnatural, it takes effort to continue on, and that peace eludes you. I wish that death did not exist, but it is a reality that the both of us know all too well; one that we must endure. I believe that families are forever, that we are all God’s children, and that we will reunite with our loved ones across the veil as we too, one day, experience death. Until that day arrives, however, I pray that you and I will live our lives as emissaries of Christ, basking in his grace, and recipients of his glory. I hope that as you suffer the loss of your daddy that you will feel comfortable in reaching out to others, and that you might call me should you need assistance. The pain of grief should never be carried nor suffered in silence, nor alone. Reach out and allow those who love and care for you to lighten your burdens. Life will never be as it once was, but it will improve as you share priceless moments of peace with those who remain by your side. I hold you in high esteem, and pray that Christ’s promise will grace your soul. With Deepest Regards, Tracy Lee My name is Tracy Renee Lee. I am a Certified Grief Counselor (GC-C), Funeral Director (FDIC), published author, syndicated columnist, and co-founder of the “Mikey Joe Children’s Memorial” and Heaven Sent, Corp. I write books, weekly bereavement articles, and Grief BRIEFs related to understanding and coping with grief. I am the American Funeral Director of the Year Runner-Up and recipient of the BBB’s Integrity Award. It is my life's work to comfort the bereaved and help them live on, as well as educate adults in the needs of surviving children.