Hope Colored Pink, Holly .

Hope Colored Pink.
Holly.
Photography.

:::

about the piece
Spring is a time of renewal. Life springs forth from that which looked dead for so long. We have a weeping cherry tree that has been at our house since we moved here. I never cared much for the tree until my daughter died and then the tree became dear to my heart. The weeping branches reminding me of my own weeping. Every spring I look forward to the beautiful pink flowers that grow from the branches and every year it gives me joy and a hope colored pink. - Holly

about the artist.

Holly describes her daughter and her journey, "My husband and I found out on December 15, 2008 when I was around 22 weeks pregnant that our daughter, Carleigh McKenna, wasn't going to live. She was diagnosed with a fatal neural tube defect called anencephaly. It was devastating. I carried our daughter to term and we made the most of the time we had left with our daughter. Carleigh was born still on March 28, 2009." Holly blogs at Caring for Carleigh.

Star Candle, Holly

Star Candle.
Holly.
Photography.

:::

about this piece.
We lit a candle in this star shaped ice mold at our daughter's grave on Christmas Eve and then again on Christmas Day before our big family dinner. On our drive home past the cemetery on Christmas Eve, almost four hours after we lit her candle, we noticed that it was still burning. It was quite a sight to see - the flickering glow of candlelight in the pitch black dead of winter. There was no other movement within the night, but our daughter continued to dance around letting us know she was with us. -Holly

about the artist.
Holly is a mother to four. Her third child, a daughter, was diagnosed with a fatal condition on the day of her birth. She lived for fifteen days, but not a moment goes by that she isn't thought of by her mom. Soon after the loss of her daughter, Holly began writing and developed an urge to capture images that would make her grief more tangible. "What motivates me is the desire to freeze these moments in time and allow others a brief glimpse of the world through the eyes of a grief-stricken parent. Losing my daughter has changed the way I see everything." Holly writes at Momentum.

Can You See That, Freja? Holly

Can You See That, Freja?

Holly.

Photograph.

:::

about the piece.

Inner turmoil regarding faith, life, death, and what comes next...--Holly

about the artist.
Holly is a mother to four. Her third child, a daughter, was diagnosed with a fatal condition on the day of her birth. She lived for fifteen days, but not a moment goes by that she isn't thought of by her mom. Soon after the loss of her daughter, Holly began writing and developed an urge to capture images that would make her grief more tangible. "What motivates me is the desire to freeze these moments in time and allow others a brief glimpse of the world through the eyes of a grief-stricken parent. Losing my daughter has changed the way I see everything." Holly writes at Momentum.

Eroded, Holly

Eroded.
Holly S.
Photograph.

:::

about the piece.

I took this photo during the summer following the loss of my daughter. This scene was very striking to me and it was one of the first times I felt such a strong connection between my grief and nature. The tree's roots were fighting to stay beneath the ground, but if you look closely, you will notice a small sapling growing within the tangled mess. It was a symbol of hope for me, and gave me some reassurance that despite the fact that my once firmly planted roots were eroded from the unrelenting waves of grief washing over me, there was something yet to come that would be worth living for. I did not know it at the time, but I was pregnant again. --Holly S.

about the artist.
Holly is a mother to four. Her third child, a daughter, was diagnosed with a fatal condition on the day of her birth. She lived for fifteen days, but not a moment goes by that she isn't thought of by her mom. Soon after the loss of her daughter, Holly began writing and developed an urge to capture images that would make her grief more tangible. "What motivates me is the desire to freeze these moments in time and allow others a brief glimpse of the world through the eyes of a grief-stricken parent. Losing my daughter has changed the way I see everything." Holly writes at Momentum.

Photo Sunday, Shadows

Shadows.

Jessica.

Walks With Frost

about the photo.
One night my daughter Hadley was blowing bubbles on our back deck.  I took photos.  As I watched her, and looked at the images coming up, I liked the shadowy effect.  It looked like she was putting on an old-fashioned shadow puppet show for me.  I feel like I have always looked into the shadows of things because they hold secrets.  I began to think that every time one of Hadley's bubbles popped it was her little brother, Frost's hands reaching out from the shadows to play.  He was helping us to see the secrets of where he had gone.  -Jessica.

:::

Untitled.
Amy McCarter.
Surviving the Day EveryDay.

:::

Shadow Belly.
Ceil.

:::

Shadow Steps.
Julie Cozens.

about the photo
I participated in the Walk to Remember in Melbourne last weekend. For me, this picture tells the story of the walk. Literally it is a picture of one footstep, it's my foot and my shadow. Figuratively it tells my grief story. I carry the shadow of Thomas' death, its connected to me and I carry it everywhere I go, even on the days it's not visible. I did the walk alone, in a crowd of a thousand, sadly this picture also tells the story of my loneliness in grief. -Julie

:::

Shadow.
Holly.
Momentum.


about the photo.

Just enough strength to stay afloat
I await my turn to find a glimmer of light
A momentary escape from the shadows
Which hold my soul captive.
-Holly


:::

 

Naked and Alone.
Audrey.
Glutton Button.

:::

Shadow.
Kieran.
Radar of Chance (Kieran's wife Louise)  

about this photo.
I am Laura's Dad. I considered writing something about Laura's shadow over our lives or such, but that's not what this image is about. I take photographs for all sorts of reasons; but mostly because image-making is how I define myself. I continue to make images, even after Laura, because I don't know how not to. This shadow lives near my house and only comes out at night. -Kieran

:::


Thank you to everyone who participated in still life 365's Photo Sunday. Photo Sunday is a regular monthly feature of still life 365. On the second Sunday of each month, we will showcase photographs taken around the monthly theme. Monthly themes are announced and explored in various weekly creative challenges. See the sidebar to explore more of November's challenges. The goal of Photo Sunday is to highlight the art of photography and help explore different aspects of grief through the camera lens.

Next Sunday is Mid-Month Challenge in which you can choose any medium, including photography, to explore the theme of Shadows. Also, next Sunday (November 21st) is the deadline for submitting a piece for the still life 365 printed journal. Please see this post for more information.

The Hole Where You Aren't, Holly.

The Hole Where You Aren't.
Holly.
Photograph.

:::

about the piece.
This photo was taken on the day that my daughter would've turned 18 months old. As my two older girls romped in the leaves on this beautiful fall day, it was so painfully evident that their sister was missing. I stood there watching my kids play, and wondered what life would be like if that third swing hadn't been hanging there empty. -Holly.

about the artist.
Holly is a mother to four. Her third child, a daughter, was diagnosed with a fatal condition on the day of her birth. She lived for fifteen days, but not a moment goes by that she isn't thought of by her mom. Soon after the loss of her daughter, Holly began writing and developed an urge to capture images that would make her grief more tangible. "What motivates me is the desire to freeze these moments in time and allow others a brief glimpse of the world through the eyes of a grief-stricken parent. Losing my daughter has changed the way I see everything." Holly writes at Momentum.

Carleigh's Corner, Holly

Carleigh's Corner.
Holly.


:::

about the piece.
In Holly's words, "Family members on my dad's side gave us some wonderful concrete pieces at Carleigh's visitation before her funeral. The pieces sat in our utility room for many months until I finally brought them our and sealed them. I decided to create a little corner for Carleigh in our flower beds. Although last summer, there weren't many flowers at all. We only had the plants that came up ever year. I didn't plant anything else, but I did grow a lot of weeds. The corner is still there but this year I plan on making it more colorful by actually planting some flowers. Whenever I am creating something for Carleigh, I always feel closer to her." Holly posted about Carleigh's corner on her blog. The original post is here.

about the contributor.
Holly describes her daughter and her journey, "My husband and I found out on December 15, 2008 when I was around 22 weeks pregnant that our daughter, Carleigh McKenna, wasn't going to live. She was diagnosed with a fatal neural tube defect called anencephaly. It was devastating. I carried our daughter to term and we made the most of the time we had left with our daughter. Carleigh was born still on March 28, 2009." Holly blogs at Caring for Carleigh.