I was looking through some old rolls of film last night and found a roll, the only roll I know of, of my family just before and just after my Dad died. He died halfway through the roll and I was trying to glean differences in us before and after. The roll was black and white, so a pall was cast over the whole set, really. A couple of the pictures were of me shaving for the first time; I took the pictures to let my parents get a chance to see what they were too caught up in my Dad's illness at the time to appreciate. On the same roll was a shot of my sister shaving my father, one of the last times he ever shaved. I don't know if there's anything meaningful to be found in that coincidence; I didn't even notice it until now. I like black and white pictures; there's a kind of quiet respectfulness in photographing with them, like bowing your head when speaking to an elder or dimming the lights when someone is sleeping. I wish there were more than just the one roll, at least of there and of then.