I recently had the pleasure of photographing a small intimate wedding down by the river. I was recommended by my friend and had such a lovely time with the couple. The bride is a few years younger than myself, a lovely gentle person, very pretty, and legally blind. It brought some initial challenges but I soon learned to adapt and work out how best to work with her.
She had quite a few blind friends at the event that held onto each other’s forearms while walking in formation led by a sighted person. At one point I asked one of the friends in a blue shirt, to take a step to his right to clear the person’s head in front of him in the group shot. But then I realized he probably wouldn’t know he was wearing a blue shirt, and my waving hand gestures were futile too. In the family shots I was able to gently touch the people on their arms or shoulders, and direct them to move into position for the photos. It just took a little extra thought on how to approach the situation.
After the ceremony, family and group photos, I took the bride to one side for some individual portraits and asked her to stand and sit in various places whilst describing what I could see. “There’s a brown wooden park bench here and it’s facing the river, so I’m going to go over there and photograph you just relaxing on the bench. Just look straight ahead for me”. There were people in boats cruising up and down the river and some yelled out their congratulations. I described the people in boats and other things I could see, and I’m sure she could hear them.
At the wedding reception venue, on the walk in after parking, the Groom, who was a very lovely and caring man, and I, saw a row of huge Moreton Bay fig trees that had been decked out in orange fairy lights. They were just outside the reception area on the river. I described the trees to the bride and told her how I would get them to pose just under one tree and shoot down the row of trees to incorporate the pretty lights into the background. She had gone blind as she got older, not from birth so she had knowledge of what I was talking about which made it easier. Her lovely sister was in a wheelchair and I wondered if they ever wished to have the other’s disability even for a day, just to have a break from their own situation. To be walking but blind, or to be in a wheelchair and able to see. Watching them together reminded me that while their challenges were different, both women showed a quiet strength and resilience that was impossible not to admire. They seemed to have a close relationship and be best of friends.
During the photo shoot, I told the bride how our cat had just gone blind. Old Fluffy is now 15 and a half and lost her sight due to hyperthyroidism and old age. She is now relying on us and her memory to get around the house. Every day I take her outside to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine. She can feel the grass under her feet, and hear the birds. She can smell her way to her litter tray and seems to know when it’s breakfast and dinner time. She remembers where her favourite chairs are. The automatic cat feeder has my voice recorded into it saying, “Biscuit time”, so she can hear that and know where the biscuit feeder is. In some ways she is actually easier to care for, aside from walking into us, getting under our feet and tripping us up, tripping over our shoes, and bumping into walls, hence the new nickname “Pinball”, she is much cuddlier now and doesn’t run away when she sees the hyperthyroidism cream coming out at treatment time. She used to see it and hide from me. I would have to find a new creative way every day to sneak up on her. No longer does she dart out an open ranch slider, scale the fence in a single leap and head across the road and down the drain.
The vet was impressed that I found a way to see the positive in the situation that Fluffy no longer tries to escape the house, she is much more cuddly and easier to medicate. It just takes some adapting. Not moving the furniture or making big changes, talking to her as I approach to let her know a pat and cuddle is incoming, and letting her know she is still very much loved. She still has her hearing, her sense of touch, taste and smell.
Spending time with both the bride and Fluffy reminded me that life has a remarkable way of teaching us to adapt. We all face challenges that we never expected, and while we can’t always change what happens to us, we can change how we respond to it. The bride had learned to navigate her world with confidence, make new friends, find love with an adoring man, supported by the people who love her, and Fluffy has done the same in her own quiet way. Neither has stopped living because life looks different now.
As a photographer, I spend my days helping people see and capture beauty, but these experiences remind me that some of the most beautiful things in life have very little to do with sight. They are found in kindness, patience, resilience, and the people who walk beside us when the path becomes a little harder. Life doesn’t have to be perfect, to still be beautiful.