Remnants is an exploration of the items and belongings that remain after a loved one passes away. When my father passed away unexpectedly, I took on the task of helping my mother sort through his possessions throughout the house. This was a difficult thing to do, yet I was drawn to it in my desire to feel a closeness or connection to him while in the depths of my grief. There was no set timeline for me to do this so I took my time with it and spaced it out over a few months.
My dad was a bit of a pack rat so there was a lot of stuff to go through. It was surprising to me how some items affected me more than others. There was a randomness to the things that I really connected with. These items were things like documents with his handwriting, a camera of his, and a bunch of unprocessed film. Some of these things evoked a sense of mystery, some filled in gaps, while others just remind me of what he was all about.
So as a part of my grieving process I decided to photograph the items that resonated with me the most. When I came across these items, it felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. I suppose that’s how I knew these were the things I wanted to photograph.
Coming across a letter he had written to the registrar general to request that the spelling of our name be changed to Shultz was a complete surprise. He never talked about it and it didn’t end up happening obviously. It’s not a big deal, but while grieving his loss, these little discoveries were fascinating to me.
Seeing his handwriting was something else that had a huge impact. It’s crazy how much of a connection you can have with someone’s handwriting and signature. A cheque written out to Zeller’s (for what, I have no idea) feels so important to me now that he is gone. Interestingly, I just read that the last two Zeller’s stores in Canada are closing down next month. Something so seemingly banal like this old cheque is now a sentimental keepsake of times that no longer exist in many ways.
My father taught me how to play chess. We had many games together, especially later in his life. In fact, the last time I saw him we played chess. I keep his set at my house now. I’ll use this set to teach my two daughters how to play.
There were so many pictures to sort through, but this one from my uncle Bill’s wedding of my sister, my dad and I jumped out at me. Staring at it, I realized he was younger in that picture than I am now (39) with my two kids (4 and 2). He always seemed so much older to me, but looking at this pic now, I see how young and vibrant he was when we were young. I keep this picture now as a reminder to myself that if I can only be half the father to my girls that he was to us, I will have done well as a dad. One of the blessings of having kids is that life comes full circle and you start to fully appreciate the sacrifice parents make for their kids. I wish my Dad was still around so that I could thank him for everything he did for us.
It’s been two years since he passed away. I found this undeveloped film shortly after he died. My plan has always been to develop the film but I just haven’t been able to do it yet. Maybe someday soon I’ll feel ready to do this and see those pictures. Although I must admit, there is something that i’ve enjoyed in the mystery of wondering what is on those rolls of film. I suppose it’s possible that I will never get the film processed and just leave them like they are with the many hidden pictures in there.
My father loved photography. He introduced me to it and encouraged me to pursue it. He helped me put together my portfolio when I applied to study photography at Humber College. I owe so very much to his nurturing my creative endeavours. I would have never become a photographer if it wasn’t for him, plain and simple.
He wore these boots right up to the end. We went on many good walks together and this was always when we had our greatest conversations. The funny thing is that on our last walk together, we ended up talking about his life early on, and it dawned on me that I really didn’t know that much about his life before I was born. I was fascinated to hear about his university days and his years after graduating. I guess I should have always in interested in that stuff, but I never thought to ask. I suppose there was something about me having kids of my own that made me more interested in his early life story. I’m glad we got to have that conversation though I wish we had more time to explore it together.
My father wasn’t one to chat on the phone much. However, we did have many chats via text. After he died, and enough time had passed, I went through our old conversations on my phone. That was a nice experience, but I found that a lot of them were missing. I don’t know if it’s because I had updated my phone several times over the years, but I couldn’t track down most of our conversations. I tried logging into his phone but nobody in my family knew the password. Unfortunately I wasn’t careful in my attempts to do this and ended up disabling the phone without any way to access what’s inside. Initially this was very upsetting, but now that enough time has passed, I wonder if it’s best to leave some things alone. Perhaps there is stuff on that phone that I have no business seeing. It feels like an invasion of his privacy.
I found this old hat of his flattened in a box in the basement. It seemed so sad and to perfectly capture how everything falls away eventually.