A shared day
The 27th of October has since 1983 always been my sister’s birthday, but as of last year, it’s also the date of when our godfather died. I can’t think of a better photograph to embody this new duality, which I took at some point in the 90’s. My sister is watching TV in the his front room, while he stands in the kitchen, holding a lightbulb delicately in his hand. They’re together, yet apart, which I guess is a bit like how we live on with our loved ones who are no longer with us.
My godfather was a keen amateur photographer, with a great selection of cameras and lenses that he gave me while he was still alive, and I remember that on this particular roll of film I was trying out my newly gifted 17mm lens. I had never shot with a lens as wide before or afterwards, but if I remember correctly there’s not one dud on that whole roll. The wider perspective gave me new eyes and everything looked different, better.
I’ve been watching the calendar creep closer to this first anniversary with a bit of trepidation, but dipping into Thich Nhat Hanh’s “How to live when a loved one dies” yesterday really helped me feel less sad. Thanks for having been such a great part of my life dear Guffar*; I hope you can feel all of my love and gratitude somehow ❤️
* my incorrect pronunciation of gudfar (godfather in Swedish) when I was a kid
