My grandfather’s passion for photography shaped my life. When I was around 7 he gave me a plastic wallet filled with black and white photographs that he’d taken, developed and printed in the darkroom. I looked through them so many times that the corners frayed, and after he passed away and I chose to study photography at University I recognised the distinctive smell of darkroom chemicals. I began scanning my grandfather’s negatives, and to my excitement I found many portraits of my grandmother, capturing everyday life – first in Kenya where they lived until my mum was around 12, and then in the UK where they migrated. It was a fascinating insight into life, love and home, and I was compelled to photograph my grandmother as she entered new phases that he wouldn’t see; grief, loneliness, rebirth, illness. The first few images are my grandfather’s, and the images that follow are my homage to a couple who remain my biggest inspiration.