Life Through A Lens - Adam Elmakias

Chapter 1

As the sun slipped slowly behind the rough, edgy mountains, I took the last few possible shots I could of the marvellous view that brilliantly highlighted itself to me.

What a beautiful scene, just wish I could share it with someone.

The thing is, I have being doing photography properly since I was 16 when I was given my first digital camera. That type of camera was extremely rare as it was very expensive. Before that, at a much younger age, I would always sit in my grandmother's back garden and endlessly shoot pictures of flowers so innocently with a simple film camera. I did the same thing everyday but it did not matter to me.

I loved it.

However, once my grandma got sick with cancer along with various other illnesses (which I didn't and still don't understand) I was forced to stop so I could look after her.

24th December 1994 - a day I remember so well - to most people, Christmas Eve. Everyone getting their final bits and pieces together for the following day - but not me. I was sat in the San Diego's general state hospital with my grandmother laying in bed I was sat next to.

Silence.

Pure silence apart from the beeping of all the machines and nurses rushing past the room constantly.

That had been my life for 18 months. The same, day in day out, but that day, that day felt different.

"Alexandria... My dear..." My beloved grandma choked, " I-I have somethin' for... You. Go-go into my cupboard" she wearily lifted up her arm slightly, pointing with her bent finger, which was due to the arthritis in her hand, to her left. I did what I was instructed, curious what I would find. She hadn't left that room for over two years and this is the most action she has done in weeks!

Sadly, she is quickly deteriorating.

Inside, there was a fairly large box sat on the top shelf, next to some books I once took her when she was well enough to read. Grabbing it, i looked up at her and she weakly motioned me to open it.

Wrapped up neatly in a flowery decorative paper, the box was topped with a beautiful bow - very 'grandmotherish'. Someone obviously must of helped her.

Before I managed to open it, the machine's beeps increased speed. Lines on the computer became straighter while she drifted in and out if consciousness. "Grandma" I shouted in a rush of panic. I screamed louder for doctors to come to her aid.

They swiftly arrived to find me kneeling next to the bed holding my grandma's hand. She was fighting for her life. Well she had for many years previously.

But like I said, that day was different.

Noises increasing, my only living relative attempted to speak for what I suspected to be the last time, "love you... Look... Af-after yourself. U-use...it w-w-well..." Softly, she slipped into sleep.

Crying uncontrollably, I sobbed my goodbyes before they wheeled her fragile body away. I was left there, on the hospital floor, laying in a large pool of tears.

Eventually, I calmed a little and grabbed the perfect box. Through my red, sore eyes, I opened the box and observed what was in it.

It was a digital camera.

The next thing I remember was running as fast as Usain Bolt out of the hospital grabbing the train to grandmother's house - where I lived - and packed a small backpack. In there I had two bottles of water, memory cards and some extra batteries. All I needed.

Then I came up here; to the place I am now. Up in the mountains in the outskirts of San Diego. This is the first place she brought me as a young child. The first place I took a photograph. My grandma let me use her polaroid camera that day - with her help of course. I still have that image in my apartment but I have the image of us both up there with me now. I take it everywhere with me like a small child and their favourite toy.

That was the last place we ever went together apart from the dreaded hospital.

Every year after her death, I have come up here on Christmas Eve and camped out like we used to. Only now, I was alone.

I was 16 when I started this. I'm 24 now. And still alone.