Preserving evidence that someone was here and loved deeply.

There’s a photograph from my wedding day that I treasure more than almost any other. It’s a black-and-white image of Deb and me. She’s beautiful in it. I’m beautiful in it. And somehow, without either of us knowing it at the time, this photograph quietly became one of the most valuable things I own. This past week, after losing my grandmother and also saying goodbye to a friend who lost his battle with ALS, I’ve found myself thinking deeply about photographs and why they matter so much.

Not for Instagram.

Not for timelines.

Not for trends.

But for memory.

For legacy.

For the people we love most.

As wedding photographers, we’re often hired to document the obvious moments — the ceremony, the vows, the portraits, the first dance. And yes, those moments matter deeply. But over the years, I’ve learned something else. The photographs people treasure most are often the ones they didn’t realize they’d need someday. A mother buttoning her daughter’s dress while trying not to cry. A groom hugging his mom just a little longer before the ceremony begins. A grandmother sitting quietly during dinner, smiling as she watches generations she helped create all together in one room. The ordinary moments. The in-between moments. The photographs that eventually become priceless.

I also have another photograph I love dearly — one of my grandmother taking a photograph of my dad, Deb, Corey, and me. You can barely even see everyone clearly in the frame. Mostly shoulders. Pieces of people. But I know exactly what’s happening in it. She’s holding the camera. And maybe that’s where this all started for me. She gave me my very first camera. Maybe that’s why photography has always meant more to me than simply creating beautiful images.

To me, photography is about preserving people. Preserving connection. Preserving evidence that someone was here and loved deeply. Because someday, these photographs become more than wedding photos. They become heirlooms. The image your children point to years from now. The frame that still sits on a shelf long after the flowers are gone and the dress is packed away. Proof of a relationship. A season. A life.

So when you’re choosing your wedding photographer, don’t just think about editing style or what’s trending right now. Think about trust. Think about who you trust to notice the moments that matter. Who you trust to see your people the way you see them. Who you trust to preserve the things you may not yet realize you’ll someday desperately want to hold onto. Because one day, these photographs may become some of the most valuable things you own.