Introduction: The Truth Behind the Lens
Let’s be honest—most of us don’t think about taking photos when life gets hard. When cancer invades your family, when you’re watching someone you love slip away, the last thing on your mind is picking up a camera. I know this because I lived it. And if you read my recent feature in [Lake Sumter Style Magazine](https://lakeandsumterstyle.com/through-one-womans-lens-her-dads-love-lives-on/), you know I’m not here to sugarcoat the experience.
This isn’t a story about perfect family portraits or curated social media feeds. This is about raw, unfiltered moments—about grief, love, and the desperate need to hold onto someone after they’re gone. This is the real story behind Lens of Luv, and why I believe every family facing cancer deserves the gift of memory.
The Man Who Taught Me to See: My Dad, Charles “Tony” Davis
My father, Charles “Tony” Davis, was a firefighter for over 30 years in Jackson, Mississippi. But to me, he was so much more than his badge. He was our family’s documentarian. He was the guy with the camcorder on his shoulder, the one always behind the camera, making sure every birthday, every backyard barbecue, every ordinary Tuesday was captured on film.
He gave me my first camera. He probably had no idea what he was starting, but that simple gift changed my life. It gave me a way to see the world, to tell stories, to document love.
When Life Turned Upside Down: Cancer Changes Everything
Three years ago, my world shattered. My dad was diagnosed with stage four small-cell lung cancer. The doctors gave him six months, maybe less. I was angry, terrified, and heartbroken. But nonetheless, I instinctively grabbed my camera.
The first photo I took wasn’t staged. It wasn’t pretty. It was my parents holding each other, my dad crying—this strong, unshakable man suddenly vulnerable and human. That image is burned into my memory. It’s not something you share on Instagram, but it’s the most honest photo I’ve ever taken.
From that moment, I documented everything—hospital visits, good days, bad days, quiet moments with the grand-kids. I needed to preserve his story, not just for myself, but for my kids, my sisters, my mom. I wanted proof that he was here, that he mattered, that he was loved.
Breaking the Rules for One Last Goodbye
One of the hardest days came near the end. The hospital wouldn’t let my kids see their Gaga. So I did what any stubborn daughter would do: I wheeled him out of his room, down the elevator, and outside so his grand-kids could say goodbye. I took photos. I broke the rules. I have zero regrets.
My kids love that story. Every time we look at those photos, they remember their Gaga breaking free for them. Those images are more than pictures—they’re proof of love, courage, and a little bit of rebellion.
The Power of Documentary Photography: Capturing Real Moments
Two images from that time define what documentary photography means to me:
1. My sister kneeling at Dad’s hospital bed, holding his hand, asking for forgiveness. You can’t see his face, just his hand in hers, and the peace on her face.
2. My other sister sitting quietly by his bed, laptop open, just waiting to help if he needed anything.
These aren’t “pretty” photos. They’re messy, emotional, and real. But they are everything.
Why I Started Lens of Luv: Turning Grief Into Purpose
After my dad passed on April 10, 2022—eight days before my 40th birthday—I realized something brutal: Most families don’t have these photos. Cancer is overwhelming. You’re just trying to survive. But when it’s over, you wish you had more than memories. You wish you had proof.
That’s why I started [Lens of Luv](https://lensofluv.org). We offer free photography and heirloom albums to families of first-responders battling cancer. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. These families deserve to have their love, their strength, and their legacy preserved.
What Makes Lens of Luv Different?
We don’t just show up and snap pretty pictures. We consult with families to find out what matters most. Some want to keep a joyful feel to their family session. Others want the whole journey documented—the highs, the lows, the love, and the pain. Every story is different, and every story deserves to be told.
Our albums are printed on thick, archival-quality pages. They’re meant to last, to be held, to be wept over and smiled at for generations.
The Brutal Truth: Why This Work Matters
Here’s the part nobody likes to talk about: Grief is ugly. Cancer steals so much. But photos give something back. They give you a way to remember, to celebrate, to mourn, and to heal.
My sister De’Ana said it best:
“Having photos of my dad means so much to me. They seem simple, but they are more than what meets the eye. Because I have these photos, I get to see him every day. Although he isn’t here physically, seeing his face in the photos gives me comfort in the tough moments and laughter when I remember the memories of him. I look at him in these photos and know that he still lives in me. For that, I am grateful.”
How You Can Help: Join the Lens of Luv Mission
Lens of Luv is a nonprofit, and we need your help. We’re looking for:
- Donations: To provide more free albums to families in need.
- Volunteer photographers: Especially those who know what it’s like to lose someone.
- Your voice: Share our story. Tell someone who needs us. Remind your loved ones to take the damn picture.
Conclusion: Legacy Is Love Preserved
This isn’t about me. It’s about every family who’s ever wished for one more photo, one more memory, one more chance to say “I love you.” Through Lens of Luv, I’m making sure my dad’s legacy lives on—not just in my albums, but in the albums of families who need hope, comfort, and proof that their love endures.
If you want to help, visit lensofluv.org Donate, volunteer, or just share our mission. Because love deserves to be remembered.
