I should probably stop taking these sneaky pictures of my father from the back. I don't mean to take them, it's just that, whenever I see him like this, facing out towards a wind-tossed sea (invisible on this picture, but actually just over that hill he's striding up) I reach for my camera as fast as I can and grab a secret shot. And when I look at it later, it feels like a little foretaste of farewell. I suppose it's because, when I imagine him dying, I imagine it as a departure on long sea voyage.

One day, one of these pictures is going to be the last one.

Related tags:

father, death, wind, hill, seaside, cancer, bravery, sea captain, walking sticks

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