When I first thought of creating the Moments to Memories Project, I had only recently lost my dad.
At the time, the grief was still so incredibly raw that I knew I wasn’t emotionally ready to photograph other families in the way this project deserved. I knew I would bring too much of my own heartbreak into those sessions, and I never wanted my grief to take away from the families standing in front of my camera.
So the idea stayed quietly in my heart for a while.
But over time, something changed.
Instead of grief stopping this project, it began fueling it.
And now, somehow, it’s real.
The Moments to Memories Project is officially live.
The website is built.
The appointment scheduling is working.
The sessions are open.
People are signing up.
And honestly, I still get emotional thinking about it.
What many people don’t see behind something like this are the countless hours spent trying to bring a vision to life. Late nights building webpages from scratch, learning scheduling systems, troubleshooting emails and forms, designing flyers, shopping for affordable studio pieces, searching for the right backdrop, rearranging furniture, creating consent forms, reaching out for donations and sponsorships, and pouring far more of my own money into this than I probably should have.
But somehow, every step has felt important.
Because this project matters.
Moments to Memories was born from grief — from losing my dad and realizing just how priceless photographs become after someone is gone. I realized how often I was the one taking the photos instead of being in them, and how desperately I wished I had more images with him.
That realization changed me.
It also gave me purpose.
This project has become one of the ways I am learning to live with grief instead of simply surviving it. Every hour spent working on this project feels connected to him somehow. Every detail matters because I know exactly why these photographs matter.
And I know, without question, how proud my dad would be to see this becoming reality.
Today — on the very first day the project officially went live — two appointment slots were already reserved.
Two families.
Two future sets of memories being preserved.
That absolutely warms my heart.
Because that means this project is already doing what I hoped it would do.
It means people understand.
It means these moments matter to others too.
I truly hope every single session slot fills.
I hope families walk away with photographs they will treasure for decades.
I hope adult children hug their parents a little tighter.
I hope people stop waiting for “someday.”
I hope these images become part of family histories.
Most of all, I hope this project reminds people that ordinary moments eventually become priceless memories.
And if this project helps even one family avoid the regret of not having enough photos together someday… every late night, every dollar spent, every ounce of effort will have been worth it.
-Janice
Leave a Reply