Here's to the pilot that weathered the storm.

"As more information becomes available, and the magnitude of the storm's impact becomes even more apparent, it becomes clear that this recovery will be lengthy." - Jo Bonner

If you can't tell, my first topic is going to be storms. When you think of storms, you probably automatically think of the weather. Of thunderclaps and heavy clouds, rainy days stuck indoors, things of that sort. You could also think of personal storms..or tough times. Hardships, if you like. The storms of life. I suppose I don't mean to start this blog with such a heavy note, but all of this is still fresh on my mind and the overall subject will most likely get a lot of credit for things in my life that I will discuss throughout this blog. That subject, or person, rather, is my mother, who passed away in December. It hasn't even been four months, so Jo Bonner's quote hit really close to home.

Seeing that this is a photoblog, I suppose it's time to share a photo.



This photo was taken in Fort Wayne, Indiana, over a year ago. My mother and I took a roadtrip together to visit one of my best friends. We drove overnight and were delirious by the time we reached Indiana, and immediately across the border, we got a flat tire. Hours off schedule and far too early in the morning, we browsed through an Indiana Wal-Mart while waiting for the new tire to be put on. Despite our tough times, we found a way to make it fun and soon enough, were heading to Fort Wayne.

The weather while driving was atrocious. It was snowing and overcast and ice was settling quickly on the roads. We were relieved to reach a hotel, and during our stay, that type of weather slowly turned into simply cold and overcast, and that's how this photo was captured. The clouds were rolling in, and I have always found storm clouds comforting, and always look forward to naps in the rain. They remind me of summers spent in Arkansas, snoozing by the windows while it poured outside over the moss and pines. I owe these memories to my mother, and I connect back to her during rainy days, not because of the sadness they can represent, but in this case, because of our shared love for rainstorms and thunder. It's perfect that I now live in one of the rainiest places ever: The Pacific Northwest. I wish she could have had the chance to see my new hometown, but she understood it, having lived many years in Oregon herself. We often talked about the sounds of rain, the smells it produced, and she loved hearing me talk about how the rain here is so pleasant. Rarely do you need an umbrella. A simple hoodie will do, and the way it collects on everything is beautiful to me. I often mused about it to her, and she listened, with patience and enthusiasm, despite how much she missed my presence back in Oklahoma.



Losing her in December was incredibly hard, and made even harder by the fact that it was so unexpected. I had flown in to Dallas and was going to stay with my parents in Bonham, Texas before returning to my hometown of Ada, Oklahoma. My sisters didn't know I was flying in. My mom and I planned it all and felt like marvelous sneaks, and my dad helped fund my trip, and all was going to plan. I flew in on a Tuesday, spent a great night staying up late with my mom, watching some horrendous movie about a mummy, laughing about it and painting our toenails. Things we hadn't done together in over 6 months. My dad drove me to Ada the next afternoon, and I hugged my mom before we left. By the following Friday, on their way back to Ada to get the whole family together, we got the call from my sister that my mom had been rushed to the hospital. We immediately loaded up the car, canceled all plans for the night, and for the following week, I held my mom's hand in a hospital room, talked to her, and felt my heart bleed in a way it never had before.



I'm still bleeding. I will be for a long time, as you do when a life storm kicks in and refuses to let up. Sometimes, the sun shines through, and you have your lighter moments, but that storm cloud that is grief has it's way of always hanging over you. Nearly four months in, I'm gradually getting used to everything. Of the many, countless things my Mama taught me, I'll use one of her favorite quotes to sum it up:

"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about dancing in the rain."

Photography has always been a very therapeutic and happy thing for me. I almost always have a camera on me. It has been there for me when nothing else will suffice. So I will ride out this storm (albeit, in time) and keep that quote that meant so much to her close to my heart.

As a former dancer though, (and she loved this about me) I will at times find a way to take it quite literally. ;)




To my mother, Anita Janelle Brown, who knew how to ride out some of the toughest storms at times, I love and miss you so much and only ever hope I can make you proud.