I remember coming home with my first mohawk...Jen loved it. One of the coolest things about Jen was that she didn't judge - what mattered was who you are.
The way we saw our relationship was like this - You walk out the door in the morning with your helmet on and life tries to break you down. When you get home there is no reason to need a helmet. We wanted to make life easier and happier for each other.
Jen, 6/8/2011
I wish the best to Angelina Jolie and her family, her decision to have a preventive double mastectomy could not have been easy and I respect that she is sharing her choice. If we don't share our experiences how will we ever learn?
Last week I bought a bicycle, my first one since I was a teenager. Today I took the SS Love-It-All out for its maiden voyage. When I got home I thought about Jen and the day she started using a walker. I remember a few months prior to that day when the pain from Jen's cancer put an end to Jen's jogging, which she loved to do.
Nothing is too small to take for granted.
Before I met Jen I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a dad. That all changed as I got to know Jen. I knew I wanted to have a family because Jen would be the mom.
I know it broke Jen's heart to not get this chance.
I'm listening to music and it feels better than ever before, everything feels is way. I wonder if this is Jen inside of me...like I no longer need to think, she is just a part of everything I do.
In October of 2006 I moved to New York with an engagement ring burning a hole in my pocket. On the night I arrived Jen and I had dinner at this restaurant. After we finished eating I got down on one knee and asked Jen to marry me. Jen yelled "SHUT UP!!!!!!" I remember thinking, "I sold everything I own except for my cats and a few cameras...what does shut up mean??"
After what felt like forever Jen put her finger out and I could breathe again.
Jen and me, 9/27/2011
Last night I reread a message recently sent to me by a friend of one of my brothers. He told me that he and his wife had an argument and afterwards he retreated to his space. He was online and saw our story "and in th
at moment, I wiped the tears away, got up and went into the bedroom where my wife was asleep and just held her and sobbed and felt like the luckiest guy on the planet."I know Jennifer would love this and I'm so thankful that he shared. These kind of messages give me strength to keep going when I start feeling like I'm losing my grip.
So, everyone hug your wife, husband, girlfriend or boyfriend...just don't hang on to the dumb stuff. Life is too short, precious and fragile.
Jen, 4/22/2011
Here is this week's portrait. I've been dreaming about Jen a lot lately. When I wake up I feel like she is still here...then the dream fades and I find myself fighting to hold on.
Makes for a confusing start to the day.
This is Isabella Santos, one of the sweetest souls I've ever known. Isabella was diagnosed with Neuroblastoma at the age of 2 and sadly she passed last June. Jen and I were fortunate to meet Ib and her family and we all became close friends. Like Jen, Isabella had the gift of seeing life as half full.
The Santos family is committed "to fight Isabella’s fight in her honor and for all children who are fighting Neuroblastoma." In 2009, the Isabella Santos Foundation (ISF) was established through Isabella’s parents to raise awareness and research funds for Neuroblastoma. I admire the courage, strength and love it takes for this family to honor Isabella and make a difference for the rest of us.
Please take a look at the website for The Isabella Santos Foundation and if you are moved to do so, please share.
Thanks
Jen in bed, May 2011
It's been a year and 4 months since Jen passed and Friday night I realized I've been sleeping on her side of the bed the whole time.
Jen, 5-29-2011
Jen looked so hot without hair! I remember teasing her about how lucky she was to have such a great shape to her head.
As always, Jen's eyes burned right through the lens and into my soul.
Check back next Tuesday for another portrait.
I knew the first minute I saw Jennifer that she was the one. Jen was beautiful and the kind of person that everyone wants in their life. She listened, and when you talked with her you felt like you were the only person who mattered.
A few months later I finally told Jen, "I have a crush on you." At the time Jen was living in New York and I was in Cleveland. After 6 months of long distance dating, I moved to New York.
I remember getting to town with an engagement ring burning a hole in my pocket and the girl of my dreams waiting for me. That first evening, after dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, I got down on one knee and proposed to Jennifer. For the entire cab ride home we held each other close and stared at the ring on Jen's finger, totally in love.
In September of 2007 we were married in Central Park. When I first saw Jen walking down the path I couldn't hold back the tears, she looked so beautiful and full of life. I was just feeling more happiness than I ever imagined could exist in this world.
I still struggle to believe that 5 months after this perfect day, I picked up the phone to hear Jen tell me she had been diagnosed with cancer. I rushed home to be with her. Completely numb, I remember telling Jen, "We have each other, we'll get through this together."
Our promise of forever was now being challenged by something completely out of our control, but we made the most of life and embraced each moment, never letting cancer get in the way of our loving each other. With every challenge we grew closer. We were so attuned to each other, words became less important. I remember one moment, Jen had just been admitted to the hospital, in tremendous pain. I felt so helpless. Looking up at me from her hospital bed, Jen told me, "You have to look me in the eyes, it's the only way I can deal with this pain."
I miss her eyes with all of my heart.
Before going to sleep Jen and I used to ask each other what the best and worst part of the day was, choosing to tell the best part last so we could fall asleep happy. The night we came home from the hospital after being told that Jennifer’s liver was failing and she didn’t have long to live, I asked Jen to tell me what she loved most about the day, which we had spent with family and a few close friends. Jennifer thought for a moment then looked through my eyes and into my soul. She said, “I loved it all.”
What better "holiday" to remind me that Jen passed?
Today I was looking through my photographs and this one caught my eye. I remember the exact moment, coming back from Akron after Jen's funeral and thinking about how different New York would be without Jen. Looking at the photograph I started to get bummed and thought, "I don't feel like being down today. Despite the snow on the ground, it's still a beautiful day and I'm thankful to be alive."
So, I turned on a song that Jen loved, "Firework," by Katy Perry, hit repeat, turned the volume up and started thinking about my little firework, Jen. She lit up the room...
Hey Everyone,
Here is a link to a recent interview - http://phlearn.com/phlearn-interviews-angelo
Thanks so much to Angela and Aaron at Phlearn for sharing our story.
One year ago today we held a memorial service in NYC for friends who couldn't make it to Ohio for Jen's funeral (by "we" I mean our friends put all of this together and I just had to show up). I remember walking into this beautiful spot, located in Chelsea, and thinking, "Jen would love this."
When I look at this photograph today I am reminded of how fortunate I am to have so many people in my life who have been there for me this past year. I also love that so many people are smiling.
As horrible as losing Jen has been, the moments when I remember Jen's smile and love are the moments that keep me going.
Lesson here...smile.
xo
Not long after Jen was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2008, "Deep breath" became our mantra. Anxiety would step in without warning and we would realize that this wasn't a dream.
I think I need to start saying this again.
Last summer I was fortunate to meet Vanessa and Billy Tiemeier at my exhibition in Cleveland. Vanessa has Stage VI advanced breast cancer but that didn't stop her from getting in a car with her family to make the four hour drive from her hometown of Cincinnati to see my photographs. Knowing what day to day life is like for Vanessa and Billy, I was blown away and couldn't hold back my tears when we were introduced. One of my first thoughts was that Jen and Vanessa would have really connected.
Along with her sisters, Vanessa and Christina, Vanessa started "The Live Sincerely Project." The goal of this project "is to support a living community that engages in dialogue and creative, thoughtful projects that explore this life we share."
Please take a look at their website, I promise it will be worth the few minutes it takes.
I think of Vanessa and Billy often and they have been quite an inspiration for me throughout my new journey as a 39 year old widower.
Thank you
Jen and my nephew Tyler, 2011
I'll never forget the moment when Jen and Tyler met. It was Christmas of 2006 and we were at my parents house. I am the youngest of the 11 kids in my family (yes, the baby) so imagine my parents, their 11 kids, husbands, wifes and grandkids all in one house...it's awesome!
Jen was sitting on the couch (and looking gorgeous, of course) when Tyler, who was 9 at the time, sat down next to her and said, "Hi, I'm Tyler." Total stud move and no fear what-so-ever of this beautiful woman!!!! So of course I stepped in and roughed Tyler up, as any young uncle would do, and let him know he better stop hitting on my lady...
That was the beginning. Jen LOVED Tyler, he was so sweet and loving to her, and she would light up when we would see Tyler or when he would send a text message telling her he loved her. At Jen's memorial service Tyler came up on his own and stood next to me for most of the night, he was a rock for me.
I know how much Tyler misses Jen and it breaks my heart. I just hope he knows how much his Aunt Jen loved him.
Today I visited my doctor for a checkup. While filling out paperwork I got to this part and felt a lump in my throat.
A few minutes later, as if it was scripted, "No One" by Alicia Keys came on the radio. Jen loved this song and I remember the first time she played it for me, we were sitting in bed with one earpiece in my ear and the other in Jen's. Forget the lump in my throat, now I wanted to grab the nurse and start crying.
So I got myself back together and a few minutes later the doctor called me in. As he listened to my inner workings with a stethoscope I was clinging to every second..."Why is he listening so long in that spot? What does he hear?" Of course I immediately thought about Jen and all of the tests, procedures, treatments...I'm so mad that Jen had to go through so much and suffer the way she did.
I know there were amazing moments but today I am just angry and I miss Jen so much.
