Unfortunately Rob, I know your sorrow, having lost my wife to "C" 13 years ago. There are times still that takes me back to that time and what might have been since. A photograph, an aroma, a song on the radio. They all trigger an emotion once in a while. But she will always be with me every time I see my daughter who was not quite 14 when she lost her mother. Together we have gained strength in each other and won't let her memory fade. She encourages my photography as a way to move forward and not wallow in a pitied state. My condolences to you and hope to see more of your work.
Thank you Keith, and I send you my sympathy for your own loss. It must have been even more difficult with such a young family to concern you on top of everything else. I have a daughter and son and the daughter has two girls of her own, the eldest turned seventeen. The fact that my wife´s mother died from cancer as well does little to bighten us up - we have been told it "probably" isn´t hereditary because when it is, it tends to manifest itself at an earlier age. Armed with the history, my daughter undergoes frequent testing and we obviously hope for the best. The irony is, my wife used to go for regular check-ups too, and then, one year she forgot. That´s when the lump was found in her breast. She went to the local doc who told her that it was nothing to worry about, just an infection, but if she was worried, then go have a scan. She did, and it was cancer. Two ops, chemo and radio therapy later, it came back and she had more ops and chemo and then, six months before the end, she fell and broke her hip. They scanned again and found liposarcoma.
She walked out of hospital with a new hip, without even a limp or a crutch and without the liposarcoma. Then, six months later high fever and further scans revealed what we dreaded. I have never seen such bravery; never a complaint. No wonder I admire women.
There is humour in everything, if you look. She used to like Chanel 5 and apart from the perfume she had one of those black spray things which is kept on the vanitry unit. When the family came for the funeral I gave the bottle to our daughter but elected to keep the spray sitting just as it always sat - one clings to tokens, sometimes. Anyway, some weeks later, I wondered if there was any of it left inside, so I turned it around to have a look and I pushed the button. Of course, I had it pointing straight into my face and got my just deserts. It might smell nice, but it tastes hellish and could blind an eagle.
I guess we both know, then, the huge uplift that losing oneself in photography can provide.
Rob C