They got a hospital bed put up in the front room, so Grandad didn’t have to go into a home.

Palliative Care it was called. End of life kindness.

One day, a dark and sad day, a final day…Grandad smiled weakly from that bed and motioned to Mum with a frail wink and a wave.

Mum nodded, as if the whole thing was set up, like a well-polished scene in a movie. She handed over Grandad’s camera, placing it gently on the bed beside him, and promptly left the room in tears.

Grandad beckoned Daniel to him.

“To take a great photograph, Danny, you must choose your subject.” Grandad coughed, as he reached out to take Daniel’s hand and pressed an old key into his palm. “Have purpose, be deliberate…find your audience…There can be no accidents…That reason is your vision!”

When adults repeated things, it meant it was important to listen.

“What was your vision, Grandad?”

“Demons, Danny…Demons…”