Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Day 1 - Sunrise

Sunrise - I had all good intentions and looked up sunrise time in Plymouth (0716) and put an alarm on. I even figured I would probably be able to get a shot at that time as Caleigh often feeds around 7am. But Caleigh had an 'interesting' night and slept til later, as did I!

So by the time I woke up , at 0835, the 'sun' was up... Apparently! It's overcast today and I don't think I would have seen much anyway so here's my shot for today...

A blank canvas. A whitewash. An empty sky. Full of clouds. I could write some sort of metaphor for grief here but today it's simply about what is to come. This month will be interesting - difficult but interesting, which is why I've pasted last year's entry below. 

In comparison to last year, I still love the sky when it does that sunlight-breaking-through-the-clouds thing and always say hello to both Isla and Dad when it appears. It makes me feel joy and peace in my heart. A little reminder of those I love and miss. 

2012 Entry

Day 1 - Capture your Grief - Sunrise

sunrise,capture your grief,isla,grief,project

As a start to the Capture your Grief month of photographs for  Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month (herewith to be referred to on my blog as PILA Month as it takes so long to type out!) I am posting this picture as my first entry for the subject of 'Sunrise'. 

I am drawn to this painting of a sunrise of the Mewstone in Wembury. I painted it for Dad's funeral guest book last January. We scattered his ashes near the Mewstone and when I see this painting it reminds me of the grief I felt nearly 2 years ago. But also now, I think of how my dad would be with all we're going through. He would be so amazingly supportive, sad and strong, all at the same time. He would have been the best granddad ever and wanted us to have our own wee family so badly. When I was pregnant, I always hated that he died before he knew he would be a granddad. But now he gets to look after Isla for us in Heaven. 
 This second picture isn't of a sunrise, but it's that moment in the sky where the clouds are slightly parted and the rays of gentle sunlight shine through the clouds, as if Heaven is trying to touch Earth. Such moments always take my breath away as I always imagined it was Dad saying Hi. This photo was taken on the way back from the funeral of my oldest, best friend's mum in Scotland. We stopped to photograph it as it was just so striking. Ever since then, whenever I see Heaven in this way, I think of Dad and now I think of Isla too.  She is up there with Dad and they are both forever in my heart - when I see the sky doing this, I feel closer to them both. 

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