Visiting Dad documents visiting hours at the hospital during my father's battle with cancer which he ultimately lost in the summer of 2004. The images were shot with the small digital camera that I carry with me in my pocket most of the time.

During his life, my father was a man of few words. Chain-smoking was his only apparent vice. He spent long weekends reading cheap science fiction. This is where he seemed to find the most happiness. He worked hard at his job. At home he relaxed in front of the television set. His heroes were, Clint Eastwood, Ronald Reagan and God.
In his last days, my father made no motions toward finding meaning in what was happening or establishing closure with his family. Visiting hours were characterized by small talk and the adults tending to restless children. There were long moments of silence stretched between short bursts of conversation about hospital food and insurance matters.
My father had been sick only a short time but we knew he would not live much longer. It was like watching a short scene in one of his T.V. cop dramas where the death of a minor guest star triggers a slight new development in the plot. My father preferred to live only in the background of his daughter's lives. Because of this, there were few major tides to calm, but the most disruptive wave was the silent one.

This is as much a glimpse at the tension and tenderness always present between a man and his family as it is a portrait of his dying days.

Special thanks to Mom, Eve, Jessie, Roxanne, Madison, Aydan, Jacob, and Dad.