I was walking through the cemetary during Saturday's group shoot when a bit of yellow caught my eye. I looked, and then looked again, then again, and then I was fighting back tears.

It's startlingly easy for me to imagine this boy's parents, and to imagine myself in their shoes. To know what it's like to hold an angel in my arms, and to realize that, yes, I would still be bringing him toys to play with, eleven years after he died.

Is it selfish of me to have taken this picture? Is it wrong? I've been wrestling with these questions for the past couple of days, and I don't really have an answer. All I know is that the moment was profoundly affecting for me, and I hope that by capturing it and sharing it I might be doing something good.