A few days ago, a friend of a friend posted a note on Facebook that someone had passed away. I didn’t really know the person who had died, but it caught my eye because the photo that went with the story was an image that I had taken a couple years back.

Now, spoiler warnings, I don’t just shoot epic beyond boudoir photos. I will take any chance I can get to get behind the camera. In this case, I had shot a Christmas party. It was little more than a glorified photo booth, where anyone who wanted to could come up to the booth, stand in front of a backdrop, smile and say cheese, and I would take a picture. The picture would then be printed and given to them as a memory from the event.

And it got me thinking that this was the last, best photo of her and her husband, and I was overwhelmed with emotions. I was glad that I had taken this photo of the two of them together, because other than this picture, how many others have they had together? But I was also sad because this photo? It was … serviceable. They look good, and they’re both smiling. The photo is well lit and everything is in focus, but it isn’t high art. It isn’t a proper representation of what I aspire to do. It doesn’t capture character and emotion. It’s just a nice photo. And it made me sad, because there could be some spectacular photos of her. Some images that capture her true being.

It’s not the only time this has happened to me. About a decade ago now, I convinced my dad to sit down and let me take photos of him. Those were the last, best photos of him that was ever taken, too. After his wife died, he began to shrink, until he became a frail old man who couldn’t walk, who could barely talk. He was no longer the giant who inspired both terror and respect.

But those photos at least, I can look at with pride and think “This was my dad, the strongest man I ever knew.”

He passed away a couple years ago now, but when I look at that picture of him, I remember who he was in his strength and glory. I’m glad I have those portraits to remember him by.

I don’t want to be morbid or morose, but you owe it to yourself now, you owe it to yourself in the future, and you owe it to the people who love you. I know that maybe pictures of you in the altogether aren’t the best images for an in memoriam, so here’s the deal. If you like, we can take a bunch of more conservative shots that, if you like, you can use for branding, or for your Christmas cards or set aside, just in case.

Do the damn photoshoot. Life passes in the blink of an eye, and you know how you look back at the you you were five years ago, ten, and think “man, I was so young and hot back then, I wish I had gotten photos done of me then. Too bad I’m no longer young and hot, so I can’t get photos done of me.”

Spoiler warning, but in another ten years, older you is going to be looking back at you now and will kick herself that she didn’t get photos done back then (which is now, in case I am losing you temporally). Worse, in another ten years, your family and friends could be digging through your belongings, looking for a decent photo of you. I don’t want to be a downer, but it breaks my heart, knowing this is the last, best photo of her.