On the 9th May this year I had to make the challenging decision to bid farewell to my furry 4-legged soulmate. She was an enthusiastic, bouncy, full of life Labrador who had an inoperable tumour in her head. She taught me to BE in the moment, to SEE the beautiful in the ordinary and to value everything life has to offer. She was a legend of a Labrador and I miss her. Trying to find my way through the grief and create the beautiful in my every day again is my challenge during these 100 days.
My thought, when starting this project, was that it would encourage me to get behind the lens again, something I've struggled with since the diagnosis and death of the hound. In trying to find the joy in every day though, I'm being forced to confront my grief. This journey I've realised is more about the heartbreak and allowing it free reign, than about the photographs I'm endeavouring to take. I'm aware that the vibe, or energy I'm exuding, is compromised and I need to embrace that. Some days, like today, are worse than others. In the first two weeks after the hound's passing, I needed to be in the midst of people. I needed a presence, another body other than my own, to be around and about when I rambled. In the past the hound and I had purposefully sought the uninhabitated less well populated spots to ramble. We usually rambled at sparrow fart when the rest of the world still slept. Now, 3 weeks into the grieving process, I'm craving that solitude again. Places where my eyes can leak unhindered and unfettered. Places where I can scream if I want to and no-one's there to hear. I need to feel my girl's presence in the parks and on the beaches where we rambled. I need to feel that ache in my heart because it's real. And it hurts.