Perspectives submission by photographer, Sidonia Cole: “My grandmother’s home was a home to many. In a seaside town on the coast of Ireland, my father grew up there. We would visit as often as we could, although not often enough considering we lived in Canada. My grandmother’s passing brought us all together (as death tends to do). The night before her death there weren’t enough beds to hold us all, the house was as it always was: full. We spread old photographs across the floor and travelled through the decades, looking at what was, and seeing what would be. As grief crept through us, the house appeared in a new light: empty. Once consistently crowded, the host of every family holiday, every celebration, a playground for every grandchild, and great grand child…. Our lives suddenly felt small, how could so much have happened? How could so much time have passed? 6 months later, I returned to the house one last time. And in the shadow of an evident sale I fell into her comfort. Not just of my grandmother and her presence, but of the home she had built and lived in for over 60 years. Through all the boxes of photographs with faces of our younger selves, the house remained present; captured year after year. As realtors would come and take their photographs, I took mine. In the presence of death, I searched for life. All the things she left behind, perfectly imperfect in their age and disarray. I will never see this house again, but I will remember her as she was in this moment. As a photographer, I have a passion for capturing the stories that shape us. We love to remember our smiling faces, frozen in time by the click of a flash. But what about the moments in our lives that aren’t so perfect? Are they not worth remembering too?”

Words & Photography: Sidonia Cole