… I drove to Walkers to view Charlie’s body and to finalize the arrangements for his funeral. It would be the first time for me to see him "at rest." In my purse were three things to place inside the casket; an old Father’s Day lapel pin from our son Sefton that read, “Best Father”; one of Charlie’s older cameras and a fresh roll of Kodak Tri X 400. As I entered the small private room, there he was in his Lanvin suit and silver tie that he wore at our wedding nearly 24 years earlier. On his lapel was a single purple rose bud.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the pin and put it just above the rose. Then, I gently pulled out an old worn out Pentax camera. I spent the last 25 years with this camera. It was one of many Charlie used, but it was a particularly special old friend that was there on our first date and at our wedding. I placed it within the casket below Charlie’s right hand; out of sight. Almost immediately, an uneasy feeling came over me. It felt all wrong to do this. This camera could not be buried. Charlie wouldn’t want that. I was sure it was right and now I was sure it was wrong. I could feel myself falling apart. I quickly retrieved it back and hustled it into my purse. I was upset now and half crying and half whispering, I started talking to him about not knowing what to do or what he would want me to do.

Then a mysterious and odd question popped into my mind sufficient to startle me. A voice in my head asked me, “Where do dead photographers go?” Why the hell was I thinking this?? I stopped crying and I began to chuckle and there it was again…same question, “Where DO dead photographers go?” “Hell if I know.” was my answer. Then I thought, “Hell, indeed. Where DO they go without a camera?” So I slipped the Tri-X under his hand and whispered in his ear, “Take this with you and find a really good camera for it.”

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