His Violin

This is my father's violin. He was a passionate violin player for most of his life.

Today we held his memorial. My mom will soon receive his ashes. In many ways, the missing string and the broken bridge represent his illness. The last time we remember him playing, it was unbroken. This leads us to think he tried at least one more time to play. We brought it to the funeral home and saw that it was broken. He either dropped it or damaged it when putting it away since no one else would have touched it. So the damage has now become part of the memory and I wouldn't have corrected it in Photoshop if my life depended on it.

This violin nearly gave him the chance to play with the Houston Symphony. Had he not injured his right arm earlier in life, I am convinced his name would now be part of their history.

Now he lays in storage, awaiting cremation. His urn has been delivered. Now we just wait for it to be ready to pick up, with his cremains locked inside.

This violin was a beautiful instrument when it was whole, just as my father was a wonderful man. I'm grateful that I knew him and I am grateful that I was given the opportunity to photograph his violin after he passed.