SHORT STORY
Sicily in September
Constance Creswell
Growing up I visited Italy often, tagging along on my dad’s work trips. He had once been one of the world’s greatest painters (not biased I promise), specialising in vast architectural watercolours filled with light and wonder.
We’d visit Rome, Venice and Sicily, and, in partnership with my brilliant mother’s sharp kindness, he would get us welcomed into grand palazzos and closed off special places where my parents could paint while my siblings and I played.
Sicily in September Video
In 2018, when I was 15, my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I have since lost him in all senses but the physical, mourning a new piece of him that’s stolen each day. I have grieved his death a thousand times over and will do it a thousand times over again. I desperately miss so many precious parts of him though he still ‘lives’ beside me.
In September last year (2025) a letter my mother had sent 15 years earlier arrived to some friends in Sicily. They then invited us to come stay in their seaside home on the island so we could have the chance to take my dad to all those places he had once known.
Alexander Creswell no longer paints, he can barely hold a pencil, but he is still an artist and the beauty he sees lives on in my eyes and in this film. I hope you enjoy.
SHORT STORY
Sicily in September
Constance Creswell
Growing up I visited Italy often, tagging along on my dad’s work trips. He had once been one of the world’s greatest painters (not biased I promise), specialising in vast architectural watercolours filled with light and wonder.
We’d visit Rome, Venice and Sicily, and, in partnership with my brilliant mother’s sharp kindness, he would get us welcomed into grand palazzos and closed off special places where my parents could paint while my siblings and I played.
Sicily in September Video
In 2018, when I was 15, my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I have since lost him in all senses but the physical, mourning a new piece of him that’s stolen each day. I have grieved his death a thousand times over and will do it a thousand times over again. I desperately miss so many precious parts of him though he still ‘lives’ beside me.
In September last year (2025) a letter my mother had sent 15 years earlier arrived to some friends in Sicily. They then invited us to come stay in their seaside home on the island so we could have the chance to take my dad to all those places he had once known.
Alexander Creswell no longer paints, he can barely hold a pencil, but he is still an artist and the beauty he sees lives on in my eyes and in this film. I hope you enjoy.
SHORT STORY
Sicily in September
Constance Creswell
Growing up I visited Italy often, tagging along on my dad’s work trips. He had once been one of the world’s greatest painters (not biased I promise), specialising in vast architectural watercolours filled with light and wonder.
We’d visit Rome, Venice and Sicily, and, in partnership with my brilliant mother’s sharp kindness, he would get us welcomed into grand palazzos and closed off special places where my parents could paint while my siblings and I played.
Sicily in September Video
In 2018, when I was 15, my father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I have since lost him in all senses but the physical, mourning a new piece of him that’s stolen each day. I have grieved his death a thousand times over and will do it a thousand times over again. I desperately miss so many precious parts of him though he still ‘lives’ beside me.
In September last year (2025) a letter my mother had sent 15 years earlier arrived to some friends in Sicily. They then invited us to come stay in their seaside home on the island so we could have the chance to take my dad to all those places he had once known.
Alexander Creswell no longer paints, he can barely hold a pencil, but he is still an artist and the beauty he sees lives on in my eyes and in this film. I hope you enjoy.
Write a eulogy to something you love: contact@theneighborr.com
Write a eulogy to something you love:
contact@theneighborr.com