Dad ....

My Dad was a prolific photographer and chronicled our family lives in great detail. As a young girl I would watch as he brought home an envelope of photos from the camera shop and methodically sorted through them. The rejects and negatives would be kept in chronological order and stored neatly in boxes. The others would have the date written on the back, then placed into albums. He would write captions on bits of paper to stick beside the photos.

When my parents divorced, Dad kept all the photo albums. I remember years of heartache as we felt like we no longer had access to 'our' memories. Many years later he let us have the negatives to scan.

A few years ago my Dad had cancer and passed away. After his funeral I received a most treasured and poignant gift. In his last few months, my Dad had put together all the family photos into three great big albums and had typed out new captions so no details were lost. He knew my love of photography and how much value I place on capturing the lives of my own family. I imagine he would even be proud of how fastidious and methodical I am with keeping my own photos in order. 

I unpacked the albums the other day and was in awe at how a photo from so many years ago can bring back such strong memories of places, people and feelings. Especially the feeling of belonging and knowing your own story.