a dedication to grief

      There will come a time, a day, a moment, when words are not enough.

When the letters hooking to other letters and tying themselves

each other, the trains of vowels and consonants chasing each other

out of my mouth, just won’t do justice to the avalanche that you’re

struggling though,

If this is that day, if there are those moments, I will not speak,

but I have no choice but to leave you with these attempts, as futile

as they might be, for words are all I have to offer,

and the only currency I believe in:



This is not, and never will be, a goodbye.  You should not, and never can

hold onto the should haves or could haves or why didn’t I’s.

The time will come, I promise you, for all of us to stop wearing these bodies

atop these souls.  The time of taking one long, full and deep breath

in through these lungs only to exhale it out through brand new lips.

The last light we will ever see through these perfect and beautiful eyes,

will be the first light, the exact same and blindingly gorgeous first

light that filters through new irises and shocks our tiny pupils

before we blink.  What a gift every single day in between has always been.

What a hauntingly painful and sublimely joyous gift to live, truly live

every single day in between these firsts, and yes, these lasts.

Do not carry the weight of all you did not say, the times you did not make

the time, or the excuses you made, because there is a secret you must know:

Those that leave us, Never do. They see us how we never could, and how we

were always so scared to.  When they go, bravely stepping into the first day

of their new lives, all they pack into the bags they choose to carry,

are the memories that soothe their longing and settle their aching bones.

It is we, always we, that carries the luggage of regret and burdens of doubt.

Somewhere, right this very second, they are beginning their journey back

into love.  Somewhere, right this very instant, the first wobbly steps in their

search has begun again.  Somewhere, the only person that truly makes sense to

them, the only person to ever exist and exist exactly for them, is waiting.




You will hurt.  You will cry and you will be scared.  You will miss and long

and ache and look for their fingerprints on the life you’re going to lead

without them.  You will swear you heard, if only for an instant, the sound

of their laughter or the timbre of their voice.  This is ok, and more than

that, this is beautiful.  Hold onto the sadness you feel like a trophy.

Hoist it high above your head and shout to the photo that is not being taken

of you, that you loved them, you will always love them, and you are proud

of the tears that roll down your face.  They live inside the memories that give

shape to those tears, and you must never apologise for your sorrow, nor your

joy, when it too returns to your days.




These are the words for those that remain.  For all of us and all of you that

are left scrambling and shaking and weeping tears of compassion and joy and

confusion.  There are words when words are not enough.  I say them because I

must say them, because words are all I have to offer besides my shoulder and

my hands and my belief that this is not and never will be goodbye,

Today is, and always will be such a perfect day to say goodbye,

and to once again, say Hello.




~ Tyler Knott Gregson ~

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The first time I read these words, my heart remoulded a little.  There is something so soothing, finding the words that kind of the fit the new shape that your life has become.  It doesn’t matter how long ago; it doesn’t matter the age, a loss always hurts.  You can try rationalise, classify, even try rate it – but it will hurt all the same.  Time may make it easier to swallow – but it will always still feel a little rough.  How can it not??  When someone you loved dearly; who helped shape and define the person you have become; when you lose them, how can it not be painful?  You worry that their imprint will somehow fade with their passing; and you look for those pieces of them you felt were always there inside you; you hover over them protectively, never wanting anyone to touch it, lest they forever affect it.  You hold onto those pieces, and stand guard; you don’t even let the light in, for fear that too will dissolve it.  But that in itself makes the very thing you were protecting, change.  It is so hard, figuring a way to deal with loss – because it’s there….e-v-e-r-y day.  It never leaves and gives you a minutes peace.  You’re reminded every time you try and move about your normal routine – which isn’t routine or very much normal anymore.  Because there is a huge something missing.  A giant chasm in your day; in your life; in your heart.  But not your head – which keeps reminding you, “this is your new kind of normal”.

It’s funny how you learn to live with grief.  You do the socially acceptable thing, and make sure you package it up all nice and perfect in the respectable amount of time, so no-one else has to see it, or be reminded of it anymore.  But it still sits, like a dead weight on your sanity.  I’m not ashamed to say, I still cry about it.  That some days I rage about it.  It doesn’t matter that she had aged to a point that society decided that it was a fair amount of a life to be lived – she was still too young for me.  I still needed her.  My mother still needs her.  It doesn’t matter that at the last, she was so tired and sick – because that isn’t how I remember her – I remember the loving, generous, joyous woman who inspired me.  And life just isn’t the same without her.  I get scared some days, that the little memories and idiosyncrasies in my memory of her are corroding, and I am loosing her all over again.  I thank goodness I can speak freely of her with my mother – that in that small way, she is remembered.  And honoured.  I mourn for the fact that she wasn’t there for my wedding, and won’t be there to one day meet future great-grandchildren.  But they will know her – from every photo, every memory, every little thing that I have, that I keep concealed away.  And although it isn’t enough, it will have to be enough.  This new kind of normal, that after all this time, I’m still getting used to.  This new shape is my life.

I love you muchly, my Nans.  Forever and always…

xxx

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to live a life that dwarfs you

I love

the moments of life

that absolutely

dwarf you.

That show you where

you fit

and how small

you are.

That remind you

that we

are specks of dust

caught up

in a tornado

and we

never even knew

we are 

spinning.

~ Tyler Knott Gregson ~

 

This post has been a long time coming.  I shot this gorgeous family so long ago now!! And my poor neglected blog is only just getting to see them!  I absolutely adore this family….and I absolutely loved their session.  I’ve known this family for many years now.  I knew them when they were a married couple.  I remember their children as babies, and I’ve loved watching them grow into amazing little people – now big people!  We would see each other, almost yearly, at our favourite family annual holiday in the beautiful beachside town of Kalbarri, WA.  Our extended families and friends shared some amazing holidays together in that sweet small town.  And this beautiful family, were certainly one of the many highlights.  It is such an honour when someone you think so highly of, sets the task of capturing their family.  You hope that you help capture the special bonds, and sweet little mannerisms and relationships that they share.  How a mother breathes in her child; how a father delights in the laughter of his children; how those children who are so rambunctious one minute, will tenderly hold the ones that guide them through the chaos of life.  The beauty of a family; the joy within a family.  Those are the moments that absolutely dwarf you…and you realise you’re exactly where you should be.  This family – I do love them so…xx
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where love breathes

“Ask me to define

my love for you

and I’ll say it’s

captured in every

beautiful memory

of our past,

detailed out in

the vivid visions

of our dreams and future plans,

but most of all

it’s right now,

in the moment

where everything

I’ve ever wanted

in my life is

standing right

in front of me

and smiling.”

Leo Christopher

There’s so much I want to say about this session.  So much.  Words could never do it justice though.  This couple we’re such a pleasure to photograph and spend time with.  They were truly a gift.  Well, they received the session as a gift, but I feel I won something magnificent on some scale.  They reminded me of the joy that lives in a relationship.  The fun, the laughter, that sometimes gets lost in the mass of everyday meanderings.  One thing I love about photographing couples is how very individual every love is….they’ve each walked their own path; fought their own battles; overcome the odds that two personalities place upon it; relationships are such a beautiful thing.  The gentle ways you see people show that they care for their beloved.  The moving of a fly-way hair; the gentle brushing of a hand; the little quiet secret smile that you could easily miss if you weren’t watching; love in all it’s little manners and ways.  Such a joy to witness; such a privilege to share.  It never fails to make me draw and hold my breath.

Thank you for sharing that with me x

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now is where love breathes

RUMI

xx

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Memories of Summer

I’ve been so negligent of this little blog!  Such a backlog of work to share!  So thought I would start with this gorgeous mamma.  Nothing makes me happier than shooting maternity and newborn sessions – call it the midwife in me!  There’s nothing sweeter than mums and babies.  Nothing more amazing than watching a woman grow life.  Then she does something even more amazing by birthing that sweet little life.  If that’s not miraculous I don’t quite now what could be.  This sweet mamma is a lovely friend who I met in her last pregnancy.  It was actually seven months after that bubba was born, that I actually ran into this sweet human – both of us in the health profession, and both of us going back to University to study photography.  We we’re meant to meet, that is for sure.  This sweet mum has a million watt smile, and the loveliest and calmest of personalities.  And such a divine mother.  We had a wonderful little session down on the beach.  Nothing lovelier than the beach on a sunny afternoon with a beautiful soul.  Here’s to the memories of warmer times!  Happy Wednesday!

 

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Ten Things

tree

10 things you may not have know about me….

1.    I grew up on a farm in the Wheatbelt about 4 hours east of Perth.  I had an amazing childhood with my Mum, Dad and brother Ben on the farm.  My family still work out there together – farming wheat and sheep.  It’s still my home.  It always will be.  I’ve left a huge piece of my heart out there, and I always feel so much better, and clearer of heart and mind once I’ve had a stay.

 

2.    I was told I wasn’t smart enough to do my TEE when I was in year 10.  My math teacher and school Guidance Counsellor, pulled me into the office one day for a meeting with my Mum, and told me that they didn’t think I’d cope, or be able to obtain a good score in my TEE, so best avoid it.  Thank goodness for my mother, who stood up for me, and supported me in sitting my TEE – which was what I wanted to do! Their lack of belief in me pushed me to strive harder, and I sat my TEE and did really well, and got my first preference for Uni to study Nursing.  Just goes to show – don’t always believe what others believe of you – a lesson I’ve taken with me to this day.

 

3.    My mother is my hero.  Like literally, my hero.  I know a lot of people say they love and look up to their mothers, but my mum is amazing.  She has the kindest heart, and most generous soul.  Sometimes I wonder if it can possibly be real.  But it is.  She forgives the most heinous behaviours directed at her, and always – and I mean always – sees the positives.  She is goodness all the way through.  There are not black spots in her.  And as a mother, she gives her all.  When my brother had an accident a few years ago, he was essentially written off as a lost cause – there was no hope to be had, and they suggested we turn off the ventilators and let him go.  But not my mum.  She never gave up.  She sat at his bedside EVERY day.  She’d massage his legs, and do gentle physio and OT – and her love prevailed.  She never lost faith he’d come back to us – and he did.  My mothers love is stronger than any impossibility.  She is amazing.  She is my hero.

 

4.    My brother is my inspiration to live well.  He almost lost his life seven years ago in a terrible accident.  He was left fighting for his life.  Once he won that battle he had to learn to do everything – and I mean EVERYTHING again.  His little voice started back as a whisper, and slowly he was able to talk when the words would come to him.  He had to learn to slowly move each and every part of his body again.  To learn all those things that we take for granted – simple things like being able to balance upright whilst sitting.  He never missed a beat – and maybe he never had a choice because he had an amazing mother who pushed him, and a family cheering and encouraging from the sidelines.  His story taught me that you never give up on life, and that it is never to late to start again.  And that it could always be so much worse.  He inspires me to get up and live fearlessly – or at least to feel the fear and do it anyway.

 

5.    I almost quit Nursing 6 months in because I really wanted to study Journalism.  Sometimes I really wish I had of listened to that little niggle in my gut – that intuition.  But in other ways, I’m glad I’ve walked the path I have – those things have made me the person that I am.

 

6.     I LOVE music – and once upon a time I used to go busking on the streets of Fremantle.  It was one of the bravest, and thrilling things I think I’ve ever done – that was feeling the fear and doing it anyway. I’d play my guitar and sing away an entire afternoon.  My favourite memory was when an awesome djembe drummer came and played alongside me for a few songs.  It was musical joy!

 

7.    I was born with a birth mark on my foot that the hospital staff thought was dirt when I was born.  They were trying to scratch it off me after I was born, before realising it was a birthmark.  I have another birthmark behind my left leg that is a round circle shape – I always hated it as a child because of the constant teasing – but as an adult I often forget that I have it until someone reminds me.

 

8.    I have four tattoos – and I only regret one.  It scarred terribly whilst being tattooed, and as such the colour didn’t take properly.  That is the only one I regret.  But if I were to do it again….not sure I would!

 

9.    I love seafood.  Every day, all day.  I never get sick of it.  Every kind.  I think it comes from spending so much time up at Kalbarri as a youngster and my Dad would always go fishing.  Lots of happy memories – the food especially!

 

10.    I have double jointed elbows.  I kind of never realised until I broke my arm and needed to have the ulnar bone repaired with a pin and plate – and apparently I was tricky to put back together because the surgeon wasn’t aware at the time! It doesn’t make anything easier – it just looks kind of weird.

 

I’m sure there’s more….until then…Happy Tuesday!

xx

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