The limits of my language are the limits of my world. Ludwig Wittgenstein – Tractatus
His philosophy was about the fact that the world is logical, but language limits what we can say about it. What you cannot express you show.
After Rosemary died on December 9 2020, I had trouble with saying:
Our garden or my garden?
Our cats or my cats?
Our breakfast in bed or my breakfast in bed?
Our Niño and Niña or my Niño and Niña?
Our Chevrolet Cruze or my Chevrolet Cruze?
Our roses or my roses?
Some things don’t change with death. Her wedding day bird dress is hers.
Her collection of nice shoes are hers.
Her Italian leather handbags are hers.
The fundamental conundrum for me is that our 52 year life together has now become my life alone without her.
Thinking about the words of Wittgenstein I wondered how I could illustrate my inability to explain the problem. The Austrian/British man was absolutely right; an image can convey a thought that cannot be said.