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October 18, 1998 IT STILL HURTS AFTER ALL THESE YEARS by Dick Kraus It’s been over 35 years since the hurt began. It has gotten easier over the years, but it’s still there. A little white hot ember that burns somewhere in the center of my chest. And some times it flares up and threatens to consume me. In May of 1963, my four and a half year old daughter darted out into the road, chasing a ball, and was struck and killed by a truck. I thought that the world had ended for me when I heard the news. I was at work and I rushed home, but there was nothing that I could do except grieve and try to comfort my wife as best I could. I just want you to know that I bring up this event, not to elicit sympathy, but to place the rest of what I have to say in some sort of perspective. And also, if there are other grieving parents reading these words, perhaps what I have to say may have some meaning in your own lives. For all intents and purposes, my life ended at the same time that my child's life was snuffed out. Or so I thought. I couldn't imagine continuing to live. I dreaded waking up in the morning to face the cruel reality of life without this adorable child. But, I had three more children and I went through the motions for their sake, or so I thought. But, if it were up to me, I would rather have not awakened each morning. But, I did. I have no idea how I managed to get through the days. I hurt so badly that it was an effort to draw breath. But, I did. Time passed, and one day, I found myself smiling. And, after enough time had passed, I realized that I had even laughed. And, I realized that the world did not stop spinning because one child had ceased to live. That was a sobering realization. And, I was able to participate in life once more and go back to work and be productive, once again. Oh, the pain was still there. But it grew less with every passing day. Until now, some 35 years later, when I can get through the day without too much trouble. Except......except when an assignment comes along that brings me back to that terrible moment in 1963.
Thursday marked the first anniversary of the first boy's death. We received permission to photograph the mother and the surviving siblings as well as other relatives as they met at the cemetery to mark this sad occasion. I spoke with the mother as she got out of the car and I expressed my sympathy at the outset. I mentioned that, I too, was a grieving parent and I would be as discrete as possible while I took my photos. I asked for the names of the family members and then stood off with a 300 mm and a 200 mm lens to take my pictures.
October 18, 1998 Dick Kraus
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Dick
Kraus
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Contributor
since 1998
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Behind
the Viewfinder - A Year in the Life of Photojournalism |
