Often, cancer threatens to define who we are by the sheer magnitude of its presence. Ask any cancer survivor, and they’ll tell you that there wasn’t a single aspect of their life that was left unaffected by the illness. One man in particular is receiving accolades for his photography on the topic, which specifically focuses on the quotidian moments of a life lived with cancer. Angelo Merendino, whose wife Jen passed away from the disease in December of 2011, says his “photographs [of her] humanize the face of cancer, show[ing] the challenge, difficulty, fear, sadness and loneliness that [they] faced.” But most of all, the photos “show [their] love.”
Merendino first met Jen when the two lived and worked in Cleveland, Ohio — and he was smitten from the start. So, when Jen had to move to New York for work, he knew he’d have to work up the courage to tell her how he felt. Merendino would pop over to New York to see his brother now and again, but usually as a pretense for seeing Jen. “Every time I he went,” he says, “my heart would scream at my brain, “tell her!” but I couldn’t work up the courage to [say] that I couldn’t live without her. My heart finally prevailed and, like a schoolboy, I [said] “I have a crush on you.” To [my] relief, she said “Me too!””
After dating for almost a year, the two were married in Central Park. “I knew she was the one,” says Merendino, “I knew, just like my dad [knew] when he sang to his sisters in the winter of 1951 after meeting my mom for the first time, “I found her.””
“I knew she was the one,” says Merendino, “I knew, just like my dad [knew] when he sang to his sisters in the winter of 1951 after meeting my mom for the first time, “I found her.”
Just five months into their marriage, Jen was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. In that moment, Merendino can only say that the two were enveloped in an unshakable, shared numbness; a disbelief of the surreal reality that would now dictate every aspect of their future plans, their finances and everyday tasks. Cancer, as the two learned, takes away “normal” with no intention of giving it back.
Among the images taken by Merendino are the inevitable scenes of hospital beds and endless bottles of medicine. They are real moments of pain. But that’s not to say there aren’t snapshots of days spent at the beach, or surrounded by friends and family.
One image shows Jen painting her toe-nails, backlit by a window on a sunny day. In that moment, she’s not defined by her cancer – she’s just a woman, tending to herself.
“One image shows Jen painting her toe-nails, backlit by a window on a sunny day. In that moment, she’s not defined by her cancer – she’s just a woman, tending to herself.”
“These photographs do not define us,” says Merendino, “but they are us.” Things never return to “the way they were,” he says. Rather, you have to create a new sense of normal.
See more of Merendino’s photographs on his website.
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