#1 The beginning of the end.
What you see of this image I took in February 2020, is a beautiful sunset. One of only very few photographs I took in the midst of what was a very unforgiving time for me. Little did I know how not only my world would be turned upside down, but almost the whole world with me. What I see, is a moment, just a beautiful moment that came and went in a time filled with much turbulence and change.
I stopped photographing around the time my mum passed away, little over four years ago. I cannot tell you why, because I don’t actually think I know why or what specific reason made me stop. All I knew is that I stopped caring about photography. This feeling of indifference followed me for a long time. I think photographing my friends with my Instax camera was the only enjoyment I felt and the only thing I continued photographing, with my collection proudly sitting at home now. I discovered this image recently and thought back on this moment. A walk by my favourite place in London, with the scenery so beautiful. It was one of the rare moments of beauty, I could still feel and fill myself with joy and pride at the time. For most these are just photographs of a nice sunset but to me this moment gave me something, that is hard to put into words. A shimmer of light. The beacon of hope, to not give up. That there is still a sparkle from photographing.
This week was my mum’s birthday and like every year or anniversary, I always go through a state of deep reflection. And in recent times, I have noticed that with time passing, I am getting more and more scared. It’s like the day where my whole life changed, feels further removed and in a weird way, with each year going by, only confirming the hardest part for me about grief, that feeling and moment that my mum is really gone. The memories I still hold on to so tightly, in fear that with time all my memories will fade away, slowly.
A part of me slowly died since the day I received the news. A part of me that I don’t think will come back. The part that my mum took with her.
Most of the time I don’t recognise the person that was succumbed by the darkness through grief and loss, that followed. It wasn’t just my mum that was gone, it was letting go of the people I loved, it was Fluffy who from one day to the next was gone, it was my home that was far away, with my friends all on the island, I left behind. It was heartbreak in different shapes and sizes.
Those four years has been my biggest teacher. Although a part of me died the day my mum passed away, there are layers within me that have grown and blossomed into something so beautiful and new. Like a new chapter ready to be written. A new normal. A new beginning.
One of my favourite lyrics is from a Florence and the Machine song, “it’s always darkest, before the dawn”. Sunsets and sunrises reflect something about saying goodbye to the old, to welcome the new. Perhaps these two images from that time period reflected visually the spiritual change I was about to embark on.
And it is special that I am drafting this post from the very place, I had left behind, many older versions of me, whose ghostly versions linger in the places been before. The rich memories which feel like yesterday. The very locations you see in these images.
I still have hard days, but I see emotional pain and feelings of grief as something enriching, allowing myself to lean into and go with. I cry with the knowledge that the tears are the body’s way processing difficult emotions. I allow the tears to find its way, wherever they may end up. I listen to my mum’s playlist I made with joy and curiosity but also sadness. I take grief as a sign that I am still here and alive. That what is left is a beautiful world around me, that now more than ever I feel grateful for the life lead and life yet to lead. This image was a reminder of the darkest of times, and a rare moment I felt inspired with photographing, and though I had no idea if I was to ever pick up a camera or even feel happiness again, I am so incredibly happy that my spark is within me again and I intend to honour the very practice that built me with self confidence and joy over the years.
Happy birthday Mama, ich hab dich lieb ❤️