Processing the End of a Beautiful Chapter

Grief is hard. In some ways, we wish we could say that the decision to close Cam & Courtney Photography was an easy one. We wish the decision were so clear that we knew without a shadow of a doubt that we needed to close up shop. Or that we were so burnt out that we had no choice but to do so. Or that we already had the next big thing on the horizon, and we need to free up space to pursue it.

But that is not the case.

When we first started this business, we had no idea where it would take us. There was no roadmap. No 5-year plan.

It started with a camera, a spark of curiosity, and a deep love for people and their unique life stories.

What began as a small creative outlet slowly evolved into something beautiful and intentional. Something full of depth, love, and meaning.

For 15 years, this has been a space where we’ve grown, learned, celebrated, and grieved alongside so many couples and families. And now… it’s time to choose to let go.

The decision to close this chapter of our lives has been extremely hard and, to be honest, filled with some doubt. And that is not easy or a comfortable place to be.

It’s beautiful to think of what is to come. But it is also painful to look at what we leave behind.

We built this from the ground up, together. It has become part of our identity. We shaped it, and in turn, it helped to shape us.

Whenever there is a significant change or loss in your life, there will be an accompanying grief. It’s normal. It’s natural. But knowing these things in your head doesn’t make it any easier for your heart to accept, or to walk through.

We knew it would be hard and that there would be grief, but we weren’t prepared for the amount of grief we’ve experienced.

We have cried- A LOT.

And I guess, in a way, that’s a good thing. We have always told our clients who apologize to us when they break down in tears, to never be ashamed to cry. We are firm believers that you should love someone so much that it makes you cry. And I guess that applies here, too. Maybe not someone, but something. It shows us just how much of our hearts are invested in this “business”.

So, why are we grieving?

This has been years of our lives.

We have made so many amazing connections with clients, vendors, families, and friends.

We have been invited into sacred moments. Sometimes, we were the only ones there to witness the vows. Others, we were surrounded by crowds of people.

We were trusted with capturing special moments and events.

We’ve stood in countless fields, churches, backyards, and parks capturing the moments that matter most.

We spent so much time in education and honing our craft.

We worked to gain a level of expertise that did not happen overnight.

So, what happens now to our knowledge and skill?

This was our heart and our passion.

This was a ministry for us. A way to show the love of Jesus to everyone through photography. To allow our marriage to be an instrument of serving wholeheartedly together.

We’ve gotten to work together. Best friends working together, strengthening, encouraging, challenging, assisting, and caring for each other.

We felt a great deal of pride in being “wedding photographers” and in the experience we offer.

In a way, it feels like we are losing a part of ourselves, a piece of our identity.

Who are we without CCP?

We feel a little lost, confused, disoriented, untethered, and uncertain.

What legacy do we leave behind?

It’s the loss of “us” that hustled through golden hours and late-night editing.

The “us” that cheered and thanked Jesus every time a new couple or family booked.

The “us” that knew every lens just by feel and could anticipate the other’s next move during a wedding or photo session.

This contributed to our meaning and purpose.

But grief isn’t just about sadness. It’s also a sign that something really mattered.

This mattered. You mattered.

With all that grief, why close CCP?

This decision was not made lightly or quickly. This was many months of searching, discussing, praying, and questioning.

Even within the grief, we know- or rather are choosing to believe- that this is the right choice.

We believe it is time to step into a new season. One with more margin, more presence for our kids, more space to pursue the things that have been quietly waiting in the wings. But knowing something is right doesn’t always make it immediately easy.

So, how do you say goodbye to something that has been such a part of your heart?

The truth is, we’re still figuring that part out.

As we begin to wrap up, everything is “one of the last times we” or even “the last time” fill-in-the-blank.

There’s a lump in our throats that seems to sit just under the surface.

It’s not just the end of a business; it’s the end of who we’ve been and what we have offered for a long time.

We will continue to cry as the end approaches. And I’m sure we will cry after it is closed.

We’re attempting to take intentional time and steps to feel it all. To reflect, to cry when we need to, and to say goodbye well.

We don’t know exactly what’s next (more on that in a future post), but we’re trusting that the same God who carried us through fifteen years of this business will carry us into whatever comes next.

For now, we sit with the grief. We sit in the muck, but we sit in it together.

Not rushing it. Not numbing it. Naming it and holding space for the deep gratitude of this season that we’ve loved so much, even as we prepare to let it go.

In tears,

Cam & Courtney

P.S. The questions posed in this post are just our honest and real questions we are asking ourselves. We know full well that we have huge value outside of photography and that we are leaving a legacy both inside and outside of photography. But in these moments of grief, we question things, even when we know something else to be true.