Fifteen years ago, I packed up my little Nikon and brought it with me to my big brother’s wedding. I was a sophomore in college—curious about wedding photography, but still unsure if it would ever be more than a hobby. I wasn’t the official photographer, just the girl in the background capturing moments that felt special.

I photographed the rehearsal dinner, the bridal brunch, and quiet scenes in the bridal suite. And then at the reception… I watched my dad dance like I had never seen before. He twirled me and his brand-new daughter-in-law around that dance floor, beaming from ear to ear.

We didn’t know it then, but those would be the last photos we’d have of him. He passed away just a month later. That wedding changed everything for me.

I remember how calm the photographer was that day—even when we were running late. She made everyone feel at ease. I saw the importance of those in-between moments. I felt the weight of family formals, even when they felt chaotic.

And I saw how a photograph can become a treasure.

Now, fifteen years later, I carry those lessons into every wedding day I photograph. I know what it means to preserve joy. To pause and take the picture. To create space for the moments that matter most.

Because sometimes, you don’t know just how important a photo is—until it’s all you have left.