He without sin

Sin in Spanish happens to mean without and its Latin root is sine.

Every day since my Rosemary died on 9 December 2020, I am plagued by the idea of without, not there, not here and many other variations related to her absent presence. A vacuum holds nothing but this vacuum of emptiness holds much grief.

But there was a small ray of sunshine in today’s gloomy day and anniversary of Rosemary’s death.

Early on in our life when our daughters were teenagers they had an epithet for their mother. They called her “the director of operations”. She was always in charge. I happily accepted her nagging as she was always right.

The ray of light came when looking through some of my computer files today I found one that was called Rebecca Digital Photographs. The contents mostly cover a trip we made with Rosemary to Mérida, Yucatán and to Texas where my school friend Howard Houston taught Rebecca to fish.

What brought a smile to my face is that in our trips Rosemary was always telling me to photograph our granddaughters here and there. She was rarely in any of those photographs.

What is lovely about Rebecca’s photographs is that they represent the eye of a child, not quite a teenager. There are some photographs where either Rosemary or I used her camera.

Sister Lauren

My Austin alma mater

With Howard Houston