Nobody tells you that four years later, it still hurts like this.

Grief doesn’t have an expiration date. When you love someone deeply, you grieve them just as deeply — and no timeline, no milestone, no amount of time changes that truth.

I once heard someone say, “Grief is just love with nowhere to go.” Those words stopped me. And I’ve spent four years figuring out where to put it.

What I found was more emotion in my work.

As a photographer, I started seeing the world differently. My clients. Their relationships. The quiet, unscripted love that happens between people when they think no one is watching. I started noticing it everywhere — and I started chasing it.

If you’ve ever been in front of my camera, I want you to know something:

I’m not just taking photos.

I’m holding onto something for you. I’m witnessing the love within your orbit — in the tiny ways, in the big ways, in the ways you’ll want back someday. Every hand squeeze. Every laugh that escapes before anyone’s ready. Every glance that says everything without a word.

My grief taught me to see all of it.

My work became the place where love lives. It takes the ache in my heart and channels it into the love I see around me — in your weddings, your families, your portraits, your most ordinary and extraordinary moments.

That’s the most beautiful thing grief ever gave me.

And it’s the gift I give back — every single time I pick up my camera.