The images are an intimate and tender attempt to process, grieve, and mourn my mother in a way that feels lucid to me. Through making her portraits and taking photos of my daily walks to and from the hospital in a city that feels familiar yet foreign, perhaps it stirred up similar memories of our relationship.
We had our issues; with its share of ups and downs. In hindsight, I wish I'd been more open when she reached out. It wasn't until her health deteriorated that I attempted to bridge our differences. Her gaze upon my arrival held understanding, void of judgment. With a mother's love, she accepted me. Our silence spoke volumes, and being together sufficed.
As I prepared to leave for the airport, she said with a soft, reassuring tone, expressing her motherly concern and affection, “take care of yourself.” In that moment, a silent understanding passed between us. Conveying my wish for her recovery and the desire to ease her worries, I responded with “just focus on getting better.” We held hands, and in that fleeting touch, I sensed it was our farewell.
