Growing up, there were always cameras around.

My grandfather filmed everything, and my Mom had photo albums filled with memories from every stage of my life — from when I was still in her belly all the way to when I moved out on my own.

At the time, I honestly didn’t get it.

Another photo. Another video.

And for what?

I didn’t understand why it mattered so much.

But as I got older, my perspective started to change.

People moved away.

People passed on.

Life kept moving forward.

And slowly, I started to realize how important those memories really were.

I remember one day talking with my Mom about my grandparents. She told me about a dream she had where my Nan was talking to her. And it hit me… I couldn’t clearly remember my Nan’s face anymore.

I could remember being with her. I could remember how she made me feel. But some of the little details had started to fade.

That realization stayed with me.

This year, I lost my Mom.

And that feeling became even more real.

In the middle of the grief, one thing I’ve been incredibly grateful for is the amount of photos and videos I have of her. Photos of us laughing, of everyday moments, of just being together. They help me remember her face, her expressions, the way she held me.

They are pieces of her that I get to keep forever.

It’s a reminder to me that you can never have too many photos of the people you love.

Now that I’m a mother myself, I think about this all the time. I don’t always love being in front of the camera, but when I see photos of my daughter and I laughing, playing, running through fields, or just cuddling on the couch, I know how much they will mean to her one day.

That’s why I do what I do.

Not just to create pretty images, but to help families hold onto moments that go by far too quickly.

It truly means the world to me when someone trusts me to photograph their story.

Because these photos aren’t just pictures.

They’re memories.

They’re love.

And one day, they might be everything.