My mom passed away when I was fourteen.
There aren’t many photographs of her as I knew her then, even less of her and I together.
I find as I get older, I struggle more and more to instantly recall memories of her and picture her face but most often when I do, its the portrait that hung in the entrance hall of our family home for years.
Its the one for me, she leaps out of the frame, demanding your attention.
I see her in my daughter now.
Glimpses some days but its there.
She’ll turn to look at me and its there. She’s there again.
There’s something to be said for the power of photography.
The historical document.
That moment, in that time, in that place, with that person.
This is a reminder to myself to take the time, to take that portrait, to say those words, to let that person know you care.
The image on the left is mine, 2013, Long Beach, USA.
The image on the right is Glenn Lamprecht, 1989, Pietermaritzburg, South Africa.