In 2010, like most of the 28 years prior to that, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  When my Dad passed away suddenly in September of that year, everything would change.  His death provided an unwanted catalyst that saw me travel the world, take up photography and enrol at City Of Glasgow College to study photography full time.  It still pains to think that I did all that without him to see and share it with me.

For the final project of my time at college, I chose to do a project on the most personal and fitting subject I could.  I would look at people, places and objects that held memories of my Dad.  Some were good memories with others being quite painful.  

These aren't just my memories, though.  My family shared the same grief that I did and were kind enough to provide their support throughout the project.  Here, I photographed my mother at the place where she was told our Dad had died. 

Religion was a source of conflict between us.

He was Catholic and attended church every week'. His mother had gone to church every day after she had retired. I think he almost felt that it was a family duty to attend and practice the faith.

This was my view of the church. I had no interest in it and would stare at the floor throughout the ceremony as I tuned out, completely.

I stopped going altogether in my teens. I think he saw it as a betrayal of our family values.

Our relationship suffered for years after that.

Our relationship would recover and we would go on to share many happy memories over the years.

My Father was my best friend when he died.

I was told that Dad had died by my mother.  My sister was not so lucky and was alone as our Uncle, in shock, blurted out the news down the phone.

We revisited the location for this photograph.

My Dad was proud of the work he did with the local roads department.  His involvement in building this decorated roundabout was a particular source of this pride and he would often detour to drive by it.

Today, it sits mostly bare with the decorations long since removed or damaged.

Football was where we were closest.  We sat next to each other at Celtic Park for 8 years and travelled around Europe following our team.

It now feels like another life and I have barely been back since.

This was the last place I saw him.

It was in this room that I was told that my Father had died.

The project was massively cathartic for me.  I had discovered photography as an indirect result of his death.  This was a way of bringing things full circle.  A way to involve my Dad in the life that he never got to see.

It was here that my Dad died.

All the stories, support, jokes, trips, advice, dreams, plans, achievements and accomplishments ended here.