He Kept Them All

When we visited Vic’s home a few weeks ago, I didn’t expect to find much more than the practical things we’d come for. But then his sister handed me a small bundle of laminated photos — snapshots of us, taken long ago. Some were from 2001. Others from seasons of our youth I barely remembered… but he had.

He kept them. All of them. Through the years we were together. Through the years we were apart. Even when we no longer spoke often. Even when life had shifted so far from where it once was.

And I’ve been wondering why.

Maybe it was love. Maybe it was memory. Maybe it was his way of holding on to a part of his life that still mattered, even when everything around him had changed.

People don’t keep things for no reason. Not like that. Not tucked away for decades. Those photos weren’t just old images — they were pieces of our story. Pieces of his story. And perhaps, a quiet way of saying, “This part of my life still meant something.”

It made me realise that even if we didn’t end the way I once hoped — with a forever kind of togetherness — we still had something real. Something worth remembering. Something that shaped both of us, and brought Kenzo into this world.

And maybe, in his own way, Vic never stopped carrying that with him.

I hope Kenzo sees that one day — not just the photos, but the meaning behind them. That his dad valued our story, too. That love can evolve, take different shapes, and still quietly remain — even in silence, even in distance.

Sometimes what’s left behind says more than what was ever said aloud.

Four weeks since he’s been gone.....