Gaetano, Italy shared by rosangela

The Power of a Captured Moment

Today, my father would have been 74 years old. Instead of celebrating with him, I am looking at a photograph that captures the final flicker of light in a journey that was often dark, numbing, and incredibly painful.

This image was taken on the 9th of August, 2016. In it, you see my parents sharing a rare, genuine moment of joy. A hospital clown had just entered the ward, breaking the sterile silence with a pair of giant green glasses and a reason to smile. My dad, despite everything he was fighting, put them on. My mum, sitting by his side, erupted into laughter.

In that moment, I wasn't a professional photographer; I was just a daughter with a smartphone, desperate to hold onto a version of my father that cancer hadn't yet taken away. Twelve days after this photo was taken, he passed away.

Back then, I was a daughter navigating the depths of grief. Today, I am a mother. The most profound ache I carry is the knowledge that my children will never know their grandfather. They will never feel his hug or hear his laugh. All they have—and all I have to show them who he was—are these fragments of time I captured on my phone.

This is the "why" behind Mum’s Photo Academy.

Through my journey, I realised that family photography is so much more than posed holiday cards or perfectly curated social media posts. Our real lives happen in the "in-between" moments. They happen in messy kitchens, in quiet bedrooms, and sometimes, they even happen in hospital wards.

My mission is to empower every mother to document her family’s true story using the tool she always has in her pocket: her smartphone. I want to teach parents that you don’t need a fancy camera or a "perfect" setting to capture a legacy. You just need to be present enough to see the beauty in the struggle.

When cancer enters a family, it tries to steal your joy and your future. But a photograph is a way of fighting back. It is a way of saying, "We were here. We loved. We even laughed."

I teach photography because I know that one day, these images will be the most precious things my students own. They are the bridge between the generations, allowing my children to see the man who would have loved them so much, wearing giant green glasses and making his wife laugh one last time.

To my dad: Happy 74th Birthday. I am telling our story, and I am helping others tell theirs.

A tribute to  my father lost to cancer and a mission to preserve family legacies through photography.

Rosie