Strange days that feel like something should happen
Some moments arrive because you planned them. Others arrive because your aunt is in her 80s and still says fuck-it-why-not. On accidentally showing up for your life — on the seventh anniversary of your father's death, in the Adelaide Hills, in the rain.
My family keeps photographs
A personal reflection on memory, loss, and the stories that fade when those who lived them are gone. Sorting through decades of unlabelled family photos, I search for faces, places, and the fragments of my mother’s life—piecing together what I can, and imagining the rest.
Rituals of remembering
On the fifth anniversary of my father’s death, I reflect on how meaning and memory are carried through the rituals we choose to create. Prompted by a conversation about family traditions, she considers the quiet importance of remembrance and the ways we keep those we love present in the life that continues after them.
Worth a thousand words
In this first reflection in The Remembering Project, I consider the quiet power of photographs and the way they act as gateways to memory. An old image from childhood becomes a portal — allowing me to revisit a moment in time and reconsider the complexity of the man at the centre of it.