Capturing a Friend’s Celebration of Life on Film

My wife and I bought our first home four years ago in London, Ontario. It’s a 100-year-old, two-story, red-brick house that backs onto a small park. One of the first families we met after moving in were Mike, Courtney, and their two young boys. They live a few houses away and we quickly became close friends, aided by the fact that their eldest son, Theo, is the same age as our son Kipling, who recently turned seven.

Mike and I spent many hours in the park looking after Kip and Theo, exchanging stories about our love of sports, particularly marathon running and road cycling. About a year after we met, Mike was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. In the ensuing months I watched Mike, a devoted husband, father, and physician specializing in child brain injuries, get pummelled with surgeries and countless rounds of chemotherapy.

During all of this, he still found the strength for our weekly outings to the park with Kip and Theo. At times I felt awkward, not knowing what to say to him or how to act. But he was always graceful in these instances and made up for my shortcomings with anecdotes and self-deprecating jokes about oncology units.

As fate would have it, I too was diagnosed with cancer. When Mike found out, he came straight to the house to help me cope and process what was going on. And as I embarked on my own round of treatments, he continually lent me his support and encouragement. Like with our love of running and biking, Mike and I bonded over cancer. In many ways, I saw him as a mentor, someone whose strength I could aspire to emulate. Indeed, he kept his head held high until his last breath in October 2023.

His wife Courtney waited for the cold, dark months of winter to pass before having Mike’s celebration of life. It was held this past July at a small farm outside London. She knew I had become obsessed with old cameras and asked if I’d capture the event on film. I agreed but was intimidated by the task. Apart from taking photos of family and friends, I’d never done any “real” photography where someone was depending on my ability to take quality images.

I brought two cameras to the event: a Leica MP with a Summilux 50mm f/1.4 (ASPH) and a Rolleiflex 2.8F (Planar) and shot both black and white and colour film. At first, I struggled to find my groove, not knowing what or who to photograph. Eventually, I went back to the basics and just pretended I was in my backyard photographing my own family. My bond with Mike was primarily built upon the relationship between our sons, so I focused on capturing images of the kids, including his two boys, rather than the adults.

I’ve now had a couple months to reflect on the photos I took. Some were good, many were weak, but most importantly the process helped me grieve the loss of Mike and hopefully it provided some lasting memories for Courtney and the boys. I have a newfound respect and appreciation for event photographers. It is difficult and not something I’d necessarily be running out to do again.

Below, I’ve selected seven of my favourite shots from Mike’s celebration of life. I doubt anyone looking at these images without reading the text would have any idea that they were taken at a funeral. Nothing about them echoes tragedy. That’s a good thing. Mike was an exceptional person and the 48 years he spent on this earth are worthy of celebration. The very last image is of Kip and Theo in the park behind my house, where Mike and I spent so much time together.

If you are interested in seeing more of my images, I regularly post to Lomography and Leica Fotografie International. I can also be found on Instagram.

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