You’ve just graduated from high school, completed some further study, you have a full licence and for the first time actually in charge of your own diary. At the same time as I was gaining my independence it became clear that my grandma, nana and poppa were slowly loosing theirs.
I needed a ‘reason’ to intrude in their lives, an excuse to spend more time with them, for me it was the camera. I tagged along and was able to see them in contexts where I’d never seen them before.
Every visit I felt (and still feel) could be our last moment together. I wouldn’t leave until I was asked to and I filmed as much as I could. It wasn’t to make a documentary, but to comfort me, knowing when they do die I will have a psychological barrier between what’s the reality of not being able to see them anymore.
As I could see their health deteriorating, I felt it was only fair to thank them for allowing me into their non-grandparenting lives. I wanted them to see it. With 52 hours of footage, I felt burdened to have to watch it all, again, but pushed by constant parental updates on their parents ever decreasing ability to do things.
What I discovered in this panic is the brutal truth about how I feel, knowing that I have the luxury of seeing them whenever I want.