Even grief tells a story.
Did you know that storytelling does not only capture the greatest parts of the human experience?
Okay, well maybe you did—but I 10000% did not. Or.. maybe I did and I just didn’t want to believe it. The truth is, this year has been a year of tremendous grief—inwardly, outwardly, mentally, spiritually, physically and especially with being a creative and feeling like I’m still searching for my audience in the midst of these humble beginnings. In February of this year, I travelled to Georgia for my grandmother’s funeral and my camera never left my side. There was so much that was being said, so many beautiful moments in the midst of such a heart wrenching day/weekend that.. when seen through the lens of my Canon 80D, whispered a story about grief that was the sweetest I’ve ever known.
The way the church mothers dress their best with grieving hats to cover their droopy, sleep-deprived eyes. Or the little children grasping the hands of mourning adults, not yet knowing how this moment will imprint upon their brains in the future—but understanding that this casket, this death, this moment will explain itself soon. Or even, the black shirts and dresses that cover the bodies of people that feel their hearts are beating out of their chests with pain—
Is this not a story of grief?
Of smiles that peak through frowned faces covered with tears?
Of stomach aching laughter that echoes memories unlocked of those that were once living?
Of hearses and flower-decorated caskets that quietly engrave the names of every passenger that has been transported from the place of the living to the dust to dust of the dead?
Yes—In this, there is much storytelling.
Almost two weeks ago now, I officially captured another funeral. Grieving again, yet preserving the moments of passing that we celebrate when in moments of birthing. The faces of those who visit, the flowers that they leave, the object that holds the beloved, the voices that speak over them, the tears of those that care, and the hugs and kisses that translate love ever abounding. Yes, even in this grief tells a story.
For if anyone seeks to be a storyteller, then they deny themselves the option of choosing to tell half stories or incomplete stories that would never be published if aspired to be written down and become a best-seller. If anyone wants to be a storyteller, they are willingly picking up a cross of preference and are then receiving a life of acceptance and willingness to cry, laugh, scream, giggle, and sob when looking through the lens of their chosen communicator (the camera). Is it heavy? Yes.
But is this necessary? As any story is, oh yes—of course.
Sincerely,
Your Grieving Storyteller
Brianna Simone
