Last week I photographed the farewell of a woman who wanted her send-off to feel like a party. She left behind her husband and two adult sons.

Before things began, I took some photos of the sons out on the balcony. Later in the afternoon, around four, I thought about capturing a family portrait before leaving — but wasn’t sure how to do it. The light outside was too harsh, and a traditional family shot didn’t feel right for this occasion.

Earlier in the day, Lily — the girlfriend of one of the sons — had sung karaoke with Scott, the pianist. From the tributes I’d heard, I knew Scott was a family friend, and that Janine had wanted her farewell to be a celebration. An idea came to me: maybe Tim and his sons could sing together. I asked Lily what she thought, and she kindly gathered everyone while I spoke to Scott.

What happened next I could never have planned — the whole room joined in. Moments like that can’t be arranged; they just happen. At funerals I usually try to stay invisible, documenting without intruding. But a wake has its own rhythm, and that shared song, with family and friends singing together, felt like the truest tribute to Janine.