A friend recently showed me this site. Very poetic and soft, the tone and the photographs matched perfectly.
One of my favorite parts: “He also would have wanted people to remember his story is about the story of life. My father had no time for growing old. He was like a river. Always in motion, flowing forward with loose-limbed vigor. Sweeping past every obstacle with a smile, dancing and shimmering in the sun. Every door was there to be opened. Every window to be peered into.”
Seeing this story makes me think about how much I appreciate my family, and recalling moments when you suddenly dont have someone or something and regretting that you didnt take more time to just appreciate their presence. (Like the bit when he’s reflecting about his mother.)
It’s a story that seems to speak quietly, earnestly, and it feels powerful to me, pure. Perhaps I should think about my relationships, how I value them, how I show that I value them. And the simple act of recording, putting emotion into a piece exactly as its happening. This is the most fruitful way.
I think I’ll do some things differently now.