In 2012, my world changed. My mother called to tell me she was seriously ill. What followed was a period of hope and fear that I could not have prepared for. After her passing from lung cancer, my father followed not long after. Two losses, close together, with no words adequate for either.

I had photographed for years, but it was during this time that I truly understood what it could do. Not as a distraction, but as a way of moving through what felt impossible to carry. I went outside. I slowed down. I looked closely at things most people walk past: a frozen flower, a drop of water, the way light falls through leaves in winter. And somewhere in that looking, something shifted.

Nature does not rush grief. It holds it. That is what I try to do with my photographs.