Every day of my existence since my Rosemary died on December 8, 2020 is a day of constant awareness that she is “not here”. The photographs on the walls, the bed we slept in, all the many lovely things we purchased in Mexico, they are all Rosemary and me. The garden is a constant reminder on how we worked at it together. My daily plant scans would have interested her. Is it enough just to do it for myself?
It seems that just about every blog is my way of sharing my
memory of her with me and her absent presence. I am not sure it diminishes my grief,
Today’s blog is one that is a good example on how my brain works in connections with my memories that simply will not go away.
When I look at Niño and Niña, I see in them two living entities that knew Rosemary, gave her attention and love, and that was reciprocated. When I walk Niño around the block every day, taking Rosemary’s route, I can sense that Niño and I are somehow not completely alone with each other. Rosemary is there in my thoughts. I cannot speak for Niño.
All those above ramblings bring me to this book in my living room bookcase whose cover was almost consumed by silverfish in our Athlone, Kerrisdale closet.
That first chapter where Barthes finds that magical connection between gazing on a photograph of Jerome Napoleon and realizing the man had known the great Napoleon, is one that I understand as I am a portrait photographer.
When I decided to do this blog, I went to my back lane garden to snip a Rosa ‘Chapeau de Napoléon’. Alas! They were all gone except for one that was shedding its petals when I touched it.
Somehow I find all that appropriate. After posting this, I can make myself a mug of strong tea and get on the bed with Niño and Niña. Niña likes to occupy Rosemary’s side of the bed. I will look at them and like Barthes I will think, “I am looking at the eyes that looked at my Rosemary.”
The little purse in the third scan is one that Rosemary bought when we visited Firenze in 2019. She gazed on that purse. I keep it hanging from one my photo cabinets in my oficina.
