My favourite photograph of my dad and me

March 25, 2017
A printed photograph



A photograph of my dad and me. One of the things I treasure most. It’s always nearby and it’s stuck inside my favourite book for days when I need it. It’s me (in the middle), my dad and my friend. My dad is holding me up. He held me up a lot until I was 24. He loved me and guided me, he roasted me, he paid my debts, he bought me my first car, he taught me how to shake hands properly and advised me never to go for an interview with bare legs that look like corned beef. He died when he was 47 and I was 24. He died on his birthday. He was a tidy man and he will like that he rounded his life off to the day although he would have liked to have lived much longer and seen all of his grandchildren. We have beautiful photographs of him around so we can show his grandchildren pictures and they get a sense of who he was. They can see how they resemble him in some way physically. The thing is you never get over it. You don’t cry every single day like you do at first, but you never get past it. The photographs are a comfort and a reminder. Some days I laugh at them and some days they destroy me again, mostly on Fathers Day and on March 24.

This post started to bloom yesterday when I was on my bike ride (it’s my thinking time and a lot of things bloom during that hour) I was thinking about Father’s Day on Sunday. I managed to avoid a massive cry until 1.20pm. I clenched my jaw a lot up ’till that point and resisted the urge to play a song that reminds me of him mainly because I had to go out later on. I didn’t make it and I reached for that book and looked at my favourite photograph stuck inside the cover.

The point of this post though is not to make you cry or make you sad it’s to celebrate the beauty of a photograph that’s printed. In an age when everything is digital we must print our treasure. I can’t bear the thought that in years to come if you can even find your usb stick it just won’t work. I have photographed many, many couples who have lost someone since their wedding day and the photographs they have became much more significant and treasured afterwards. I know this because they get in touch to tell me. The nostalgia we feel coming across an old photograph is incredible, and as the saying goes these are the things we’d take with us if our house was burning down.

I’m on a bit of a crusade with this. I print my instagrams because they have become our family snaps. My dad would take photographs on film and they would be developed at Max Speilmann in Altrincham and the excitement we’d feel going to pick them up is the same excitement I feel when the FedEx box arrives with all my recent instagrams printed in perfect little squares.

I love the thought that in years to come my couples will be curled up on the sofa with their children and grandchildren and they’ll be looking through images of their wedding day together, chuckling at the fashion and the hairdos and when some of our loved ones have passed away they will be our most treasured possessions.

Print your photographs.

Lancashire wedding photographer also covering Cheshire, Lake District, UK and destination weddings.


I think I will, I have a favourite picture of my dad, he died when he was just 49 and I was 18 I wish he was in many more!! Thank you Lisa, I will be printing my instagrams, you have inspired me. I wish you would have got the opportunity to photograph dad on my wedding day as the pics were just gorgeous and extremely precious, you would have loved him and I am with you, photographs stir feelings not much else can. Good luck with the crusade xxxxx

My Dad died when I was 28. He was my best friend and an inspiration for me throughout my life. A day never passes without me thinking about him. My main motivation in business was to honour his name. I like to think he can see his Grandchildren and I know how proud he would be.
I have some old photographs of my Father and Grandfather; I have written the narrative and Matt is helping me turn it into a book.
I love your energy and humour, Lisa. Xx

Beautiful words, Lisa