Words by Anna in memory of her father, Allan. ...... Illustration by Jessamy Hawke.‘My dad loved to walk, he walked pretty much up to the end of his life and just near here was one of his last walks, somewhere he and my mother walked often and sometimes my brother and sister and I walked with him too. Latterly mum and dad had different walking speeds so he often ended up waiting for her to finish a longer loop and he would stand by the gate and look at this beautiful view. There was often talk of moving, me trying to persuade them to move south, nearer to me, but dad was so deeply woven into this place that I can’t imagine he would ever have been happy to leave it. He spent his whole retirement writing a book about Edvin Loach, the tiny hamlet where they lived and where he is now buried; he researched and studied and came to love and understand the history of the place and how the landscape had formed and changed over thousands of years and so it feels just right that he is now a part of it himself.’
‘Portobello Beach, Edinburgh, Scotland’
Words by Poppy Chancellor in memory of her father, Jock. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke. ...... ‘My dad was from Musselburgh, and grew up there with his six siblings. He moved to London in the 80’s to become and punk poet where he later met my mum. Dad’s Scottish accent and his love of Scotland was a huge part of his identity and my life. We only went back to Scotland a handful of times together but he always took me for an ice cream at Luca’s and for a walk along this beach.’
‘The Temple of Apollo, Stourhead'
Words by Jane in memory of her mother, Christine. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke. ...... ‘My Mum was a most unassuming woman but everyone who knew or met her, loved her. Her chief joys were her own garden and us, her family - my Dad, my brother and I. When she left us, far too young at 56, we lost the person who made all three of us better people than we would have been without her. She was fiercely intelligent, a razor-sharp mimic and very funny - and she would not tolerate puffery or grandstanding, from us (and my Dad, brother and I are all prone to it!) or from anyone else. We scattered her ashes secretly at Stourhead around the Temple of Apollo. We didn't ask permission I'm afraid, we suspected they would say "no" so it was rather like the tunnelling scene from The Great Escape with the three of us trying to discreetly drop her ashes in various bushes and at good viewpoints! She has been gone for over 20 years but I still miss her every day and I have never met anyone to equal her. We return to Stourhead at special times of the year to celebrate her but, in truth, she is with each of us forever. It's hard living in New Zealand, especially now, but I always visit every time I am back.’
'Loch Humphrey, Scotland'
Words by Shona Brown - in memory of her brother John. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke. ..... ‘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. ..... ‘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.’
Words by Danielle McLean-Hughes @dhmclean in memory of her dad, Chris McLean. Illustration by Jessamy Hawke. ..... ‘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 ..... '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 ..... '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.'