I was helping my daughter put her laundry away when I saw it.

He was visiting us one more time before he would die.

His secret.

I didn’t even know she took a picture of my father while he was here.

I held it in my hand.

Stella hugged me crying too.

“I miss Grandpa.”

I have spent most of my life trying to become the “world’s best photographer taking the world’s best photographs”.

Now I stood humbled from a photo taken by a child.

It occurred to me that when I’m on my own deathbed, the only photographs I want are of them.

The words I want them to remember are, “I love you.”

That’s how the project began.

The best photographs in the world are the ones of who you love.

The best photographer in the world is you, when you take them.

And write to them.

Because they might forget.