
'Loch Humphrey, Scotland'
Words by Shona Brown - in memory of her brother John. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke.
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‘When I was five, my brother, John, died of cancer. He was seven years old and my best friend. We grew up together on the west coast of Scotland, at the foot of the Old Kilpatrick Hills. During my brother's illness, my dad and I would walk these hills for hours. Sometimes we'd make a small fire by the edge of the loch, roasting sausages in tin foil and eating sandwiches. After my brother died, we would return to these hills with our dog, tramping for miles through mossy heather and bogs.
When I was ten, my parents and I moved to Canada. I'm sure it was to escape from their grief and from the constant reminders of John. However, the loss of this landscape impacted me deeply. In my early 40's I returned to Scotland for the next decade of my life. These hills and lochs feel like home and will always bring me close to my brother.’
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‘When I was five, my brother, John, died of cancer. He was seven years old and my best friend. We grew up together on the west coast of Scotland, at the foot of the Old Kilpatrick Hills. During my brother's illness, my dad and I would walk these hills for hours. Sometimes we'd make a small fire by the edge of the loch, roasting sausages in tin foil and eating sandwiches. After my brother died, we would return to these hills with our dog, tramping for miles through mossy heather and bogs.
When I was ten, my parents and I moved to Canada. I'm sure it was to escape from their grief and from the constant reminders of John. However, the loss of this landscape impacted me deeply. In my early 40's I returned to Scotland for the next decade of my life. These hills and lochs feel like home and will always bring me close to my brother.’

‘Smilde, The Netherlands’
Words by Lauren @grief_unapologetic in memory of her sister, Danielle. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke.
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‘This is the field behind the farmhouse on my mom's family farm in a small village in northern Holland. I took this picture when my late sister and I visited here together on our month-long trip to Scotland, England, Paris, and Holland in 2007. I love the brilliant colours and the hereditary nostalgia of being in a place where our family is rooted.’
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‘This is the field behind the farmhouse on my mom's family farm in a small village in northern Holland. I took this picture when my late sister and I visited here together on our month-long trip to Scotland, England, Paris, and Holland in 2007. I love the brilliant colours and the hereditary nostalgia of being in a place where our family is rooted.’

‘Pléneuf-Val-André, France’
Words by Danielle McLean-Hughes @dhmclean in memory of her dad, Chris McLean. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke.
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‘I lost my dad two months ago to pancreatic cancer. The grief hasn’t settled yet. I’m still taking it day by day and trying to get used to him not being here and the ways in which my life and family’s lives have changed and how the future has changed too. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer in September 2019 and he lived for 10 months after that.
I’ve chosen the view from his parents’ house in Pléneuf-Val-André, France, where we stayed every summer of my childhood and adolescence. We’d planned a final trip to stay there in July this year but his health worsened and we never made it. My family plans to visit the house next year for dad’s birthday so we can stand in that spot and say the goodbye that he didn’t get to say.’
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‘I lost my dad two months ago to pancreatic cancer. The grief hasn’t settled yet. I’m still taking it day by day and trying to get used to him not being here and the ways in which my life and family’s lives have changed and how the future has changed too. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer in September 2019 and he lived for 10 months after that.
I’ve chosen the view from his parents’ house in Pléneuf-Val-André, France, where we stayed every summer of my childhood and adolescence. We’d planned a final trip to stay there in July this year but his health worsened and we never made it. My family plans to visit the house next year for dad’s birthday so we can stand in that spot and say the goodbye that he didn’t get to say.’

'Bhara Kahu Landscape'
Words by Shireen Ikramullah. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke
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'The Bhara Kahu Landscape; a depiction of the natural-usually a focus on mountains, trees, rivers and other scenic areas. Often it does not contain a humanistic element, hence it is interesting that it has such an effect on viewers. This particular scenery reminds me of my parents, the trees that blossomed within the fields and the meadow flowers, as if it sprung from a treasurable seed. Perhaps if it were absent the picture of this landscape would be missing something special. I instantly want to return to this countryside, where my eyes can roam freely over hills and ploughed fields. This was a truly great place, I loved it.'
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'The Bhara Kahu Landscape; a depiction of the natural-usually a focus on mountains, trees, rivers and other scenic areas. Often it does not contain a humanistic element, hence it is interesting that it has such an effect on viewers. This particular scenery reminds me of my parents, the trees that blossomed within the fields and the meadow flowers, as if it sprung from a treasurable seed. Perhaps if it were absent the picture of this landscape would be missing something special. I instantly want to return to this countryside, where my eyes can roam freely over hills and ploughed fields. This was a truly great place, I loved it.'

'Tree Silhouette during an Islamabad Evening'
Words by Shireen Ikramullah. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke
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'The tree lifted its branches to the evening sky, as if its very presence is enough to beat back the oncoming darkness. Its branches shone like the right kind of colour of ebony, the sort that inspires me to intoxicating heights of imagination. It is no wonder the touch of the trunk and strong branches felt like a hug from the heavens above.'
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'The tree lifted its branches to the evening sky, as if its very presence is enough to beat back the oncoming darkness. Its branches shone like the right kind of colour of ebony, the sort that inspires me to intoxicating heights of imagination. It is no wonder the touch of the trunk and strong branches felt like a hug from the heavens above.'