A few months after our father Haydn died, my brother Julian came across a shoe box among Dad’s things labelled ‘Europe 1963’. Inside were boxes of slides taken on the first of what would be many overseas trips Haydn would make during his lifetime: on this occasion, he travelled from Melbourne by boat on the SS Flavia to Europe via Egypt, touring the continent by car, before flying to New York and on to Tahiti.

Among boxes of slides showing Haydn partying, playing deck tennis and seeing the sights was a collection of images I’d never seen before of my parents with me as a baby. I was born in the analogue era, when taking photos was still a big deal. We had a camera–my father would’ve sold Kodak Instamatics along with film and flash cubes in his capacity as a pharmacist–but almost all the early photos of me are black and white. Until Julian unearthed the box of slides, I’d never seen a colour photo of me as a baby with my father.

And what a photo–such joy! Even peering at the tiny transparent rectangle, I knew it was a beautiful image. Julian subsequently managed to digitise the slide into the image above. It feels like a gift twice over: a moment of love shared by my father from beyond the grave, made possible by a labour of love on the part of my brother.

I assumed the photo was taken in Broken Hill, NSW, as there were other images among the slides that clearly date back to a visit my parents made there when I was six months old. My mother’s father, Mervyn Whelan, was stationed in Broken Hill as a policeman, living there with my grandmother, Olga, and at least their two youngest children, my aunt Dominica, who was around 13 years old at the time, and my uncle Michael, who would’ve been ten or so. There are other (black and white) photos of me with the four of them, and this shot with my mother on the edge of a lake.

On reflection, I wonder if the photo of me and Dad was taken a little earlier (I have less hair!), possibly in Melbourne’s Royal Botanical Gardens.

In truth, the location is not as important to me as the emotion in this photo. The laughter on my face, revealing a dimple in my pudgy left cheek. My father’s matching smile. The way he is holding me, which seems designed for my comfort and not his. I love the lustre of his hair and his chic white polo knit.

And the photo of me with Mum by the lake has always been a favourite. She looks so young and beautiful.

She was old and beautiful when she died.

Dad was still smiling.

I miss them both so much.


About Angela Savage

Angela Savage is a Melbourne writer, who has lived and travelled extensively in Asia. She won the Victorian Premier’s Literary Award for an unpublished manuscript, and the Scarlet Stiletto Award short story award. Her latest novel is, Mother of Pearl, published by Transit Lounge. Angela holds a PhD in Creative Writing, is former CEO of Writers Victoria, and currently works as CEO of Public Libraries Victoria.
This entry was posted in Angela Savage and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Gifts

  1. Margot Kinberg says:

    I’m so happy for you, Angela, that you have those photos. They are a link to your past and your parents. I’m glad you have happy memories, and what a lovely gift to help you reflect on them.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Such a beautiful post, Angela. Gorgeous photos and you have such words to go with them.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jo says:

    There really is so much emotion in this picture. An absolute gift.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Kathy D. says:

    The photos are beautiful and show how much love your parents had for their children. So good to have that to hold onto. Wanted to mention that I watched a Poisoned Pen author event with Sulari Gentill and Emma Viskic. There was a discussion of Oz authors, and Sulari Gentill mentioned you, I think. Someone did, and I think it was her. Wish Barbara Peters would contact you for an interview via Zoom. So sorry you lost both of your parents, but you have beautiful memories and, now, photos.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi Kathy, yes, I was loved by both my parents–something I feel fortunate to say and that I don’t take for granted. It does make the grief of their loss a little easier to bear.
      Good to hear that you enjoyed the interview with Sulari and Emma. The three of us are good friends, although I haven’t seen either of them for a while due to COVID. Hoping to make up for lost time soon. I hope you are keeping well and reading up a storm xxx


  5. Kathy D. says:

    Yes, I am reading quite a bit. Just ordered Sulari’s latest book from a friend’s bookshop. I have to balance between his and the Poisoned Pen. Are you publishing another book soon? Curious minds want to know. Glad to read in a previous post that your 15-year-old daughter is a tech advisor. It seems like only yesterday that she was six.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Diana Baker says:

    Gorgeous piece, Ange. Beautiful photos. And it’s really too much that they left us so close together. xx

    Liked by 1 person

  7. This makes me cry Angela. They are lovely pics. I reckon your father might also have been holding you up for the camera so that you would feature well in the pic. Whatever, it is a joyful picture. And, you are right, your mother is beautiful.

    I hope you were nurtured well this Mothers Day.

    Liked by 1 person

What do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s