As Mother’s Day approaches, I keep finding myself thinking about the photographs from that day differently than I once did.

There are weddings that stay with you because they were beautiful. And then there are weddings that stay with you because they quietly teach you something about life. Samantha’s wedding was one of those weddings for me. As Mother’s Day approaches, I keep finding myself thinking about the photographs from that day differently than I once did. At the time, I photographed it the way I photograph every wedding — carefully watching for emotion, connection, fleeting moments, and the people surrounding the couple with love. I photographed the big moments everyone expects, but I also photographed the smaller ones too. The in-between moments. The ones that happen quietly at the edges of the day.

A mom and daughter sneaking puppy snuggles while getting dressed.

A mother of the groom slipping him a secret surprise.

A glance across the room filled with pride and love.

At the time, none of us fully understood just how much those photographs would someday mean. But life has a way of changing the meaning of photographs. What once felt like “wedding photos” eventually become something much bigger. They become evidence of people being here. Loving each other. Laughing together. Existing in a moment that can never be recreated again. And when loss enters a family, photographs suddenly hold a weight they never held before.

Not because they’re perfect.

Not because they’re technically beautiful.

But because they allow us to return, even briefly, to people and moments we can no longer physically hold onto. That’s the real power of photography. It freezes ordinary seconds that eventually become priceless. A mother watching her daughter dance. Hands intertwined during a speech. A quiet smile from across the room. The things we don’t yet realize we’ll someday ache to see again. I think Mother’s Day has a way of magnifying all of this. It reminds us how quickly time moves. How often mothers are the ones behind the camera instead of in front of it. How important it is to preserve the people who shaped us, loved us, raised us, and stood beside us through every season of life.

As photographers, we aren’t just documenting weddings. We are preserving history for families who don’t yet know what parts of that history they’ll one day need most. And I think that’s why Samantha’s wedding will always stay with me. Because it reminded me that photography is never really about the wedding day alone.

It’s about the people.

And often, it’s about the mothers most of all.