If you ask me about my current priorities, I would tell you two of them are my family and exploring this planet. My Instagram is loaded with photos from around the globe and I’ve developed a passion to see this world and tell its story through my camera. But I didn’t used to be that way. It took a tragedy to make a triumph, and change the priorities I hold so dearly today.
I remember that tragedy clearly, like it was yesterday. I was standing in line at Ovid’s Cafe at the University of Kentucky William T. Young Library, quite annoyed by the long line of hungry students on break from winter finals. My phone rang, and I got the call that would change my life forever.
My dad was on the on other line. “Nath, where are you?” I promptly explained where I was at, and then he cut right to the point, like a knife cutting straight to bone. “Nathan, Kevin passed away just now. Something happened to his heart, and we are trying to figure out what caused it.”
My heart dropped, knees buckled, and I almost fell to the ground. “There’s no way,” I thought, “He’s way to healthy; way too young. There’s just no way. My dad had to have made a mistake.” I immediately called my mom for some reassurance, but her crying confirmed my fears and the painful reality that our family had just lost a beautiful soul.
Kevin was my cousin, and while most people have distant relationships with their cousins, my cousins are like brothers and sisters who live in other states. I’m one of the younger kids in the family, so I looked up to the older cousins and adored them.
I always thought Kevin was the cool, adventurous one. He lived in Oregon with his sister Jenny and their parents, and was always exploring the coast or doing something in the outdoors. But the thing I loved so much about Kevin was his respect for this world. He was deeply in love, and he let everyone know it.
As he got older, he was known for his spontaneous yet calculated adventures. He soon picked up sailing, bought a boat called the Kailana, and alongside his trusted dog and close friends, sailed around the world. He would tell me about days where he would fish or catch Dungeness crabs for his dinner and grill out while watching the sun set behind the Vancouver Islands. Then, the night would be capped off with a ukulele jam session.
He would talk about the freedom it brought and the balance of independence from society and dependence on the ocean, and how it taught him to respect the world we live in. He was most happy on the water, and you could tell it had become part of his identity. Kevin, truly adored the ocean, and he always invited others to join him, including me. Every time he saw me he would say something like, “When are you going to come sailing with me?” or “The boat’s always open for you.”
But I would make up excuses, saying I didn’t have enough money or had to wait to visit until the summer months after school. Every time, I would keep pushing it back because I was young and in college. I was wasting money on things that, I now see, didn’t matter and had my priorities out of order. But when I got that call about Kevin, I suddenly realized the devastating truth that I would never sail with my cousin.
The reaction to Kevin’s death was a weird one. It was the first time our family had experienced a tragedy, and it happened right around the holidays, so the sting of loss was greatly increased. The process for me was numbing then agonizing. It felt like I had been shot, went into shock, then was hit with searing pain.
Kevin died from a freak occurrence that could happen to anyone, at any time. With too high blood pressure, his aorta ruptured, and in about 15 minutes, he was gone. There was no chance for a medical procedure or surgery.
And it didn’t matter how healthy or in shape he was, or anyone who has suffered the same occurrence. I found out that day that anyone can pass, at anytime, in a moment’s notice. As a college student who felt that he was young and invincible at the time, that reality hit me hard.
However, I have learned that most bad experiences in this world lead to something redeemable and ultimately good. I have been spending some time photographing in the Hawaii Islands, and this place truly shows this lesson through nature.
These islands are some of the most beautiful places on earth, but were formed from years of fierce volcanic eruptions, lava flow, and powerful, seismic events. Without devastation, there would be no beauty. When Kevin passed, that was like the volcano erupting in my family’s life. It caused some turmoil and damage, but soon after, it led to beautiful change.
From that Christmas onward, my outlook on life changed. My perspective and priorities evolved. I began to treat time with my family as the most precious thing to me. I began to take every opportunity I could to center my life around exploring this beautiful world, like Kevin did, and never say no to a trip or experience that I could learn from.
Through this eruption in life, I became a better person, and I wanted Kevin’s memory to live through my adventures. Every photo I take of a beautiful place, I take for him and others who have been an example and taught me how to love and respect this planet. So yes, tragedy can turn into triumph, and I am reminded of that every time my shutter clicks.
