When you get that phone call. You know the one. The one where they ask you if you are sitting down. When that call comes time stands still and that moment is etched in your memory forever.
There is no 'right' way to grieve. Everyone finds their own way. My way was remembering through photographs. I sat on my bedroom floor surrounded by photo albums and memories sheltered under yellowing sticky tack pages. Some of the photos were faded. Some of the memories had faded as well, thankfully triggered by the existence of photographic evidence.
It wasn't until my uncle died suddenly last April that I realized how profoundly important photography is in our lives. Photographs helped to renew bonds within my family, they filled us with joy, they offered us relief from our grief, and they honoured my uncle's life.
This is the last photograph I took of my Uncle Stew in the summer of 2011. I will always remember his giggle, his bratty sense of humour and his love of life. I am so grateful I took a moment to take this image of him.
To have had those moments with him and to have this photographic memory. It is truly, a gift.