It has been almost a year (eleven months, to be precise) since I lost Bob. In the evening after his funeral, I was driving home and I noticed that there was a big, beautiful full moon. So I took a photograph of it. Astoundingly, every full moon since has been visible in all its glory, and I have photographed each one - twelve in total. Different cameras, mixed results, but they are all there. I say astoundingly, because this was right through a Tasmanian winter, when the sky can be clouded in for days and weeks. So here they all are - April, May, June, July August, September, October, November, December, January, February and March. You might count thirteen moons in this collage - you are right - the big one in the middle is a duplicate of the twelfth moon.
So twelve moons and a year of change; of learning to live with loss; of finding my feet again and creating a different way to be. I've been sad, happy, triumphant, despondent and filled with feelings I have no name for. I've written poems and stories and made lots of art - these seem to be the best ways for me to comprehend a sometimes incomprehensible world.
TWELVE MOONS
