Niño & Niña - 13 March 2026

My Rosemary died on December 9, 2020 and after those 5 years I am no better today than I was when she died.

I have finished reading one of the best books I have read in the last 5 years. This is Departure(s) by Julian Barnes. I have written about his discovery through reading what happened to Proust when he dipped a madeleine into tea. Barnes calls it IAM which stands for Involuntary Autobiographical Memory.

Julian Barnes - Death & the Lemon Table 

This happens to me constantly, even in my dreams. Thoughts circulate in my head of people I have known who are now all dead. They are friends and family. A couple of days ago a school chum in my high school in Austin, Texas, died of lung cancer. Of that class of over 50 there may be at the most five of us left.

Without controlling the thoughts I see moments in my life that randomly happen in my old street in Coghlan in Buenos Aires or of going to see a play in Vancouver with Rosemary. As I drive in Vancouver and I see the closing of shops and all those towers n our former home in Burnaby the thought automatically comes to me, “Rosemary, you would not recognize our Vancouver.”

But I must now state here that I have discovered something that I call IAT which stands for Involuntary Autobiographical Talking. I cannot explain that I might get into my car and I blurt out “te quiero mucho” (I love you lots) or when I am sitting in my living room I speak out, “Rosamaría”.

My only relief (if relief it is ) is to constantly somehow put Rosemary in my blogs. Sometimes when I am on my bed with my cats I say “Rosemary” or the endearing “Mamuchi”. I don’t think my cats remember the name.

What has been happening to me of late is that I stare at Rosemary’s portrait on the wall opposite my bed (like the one here but framed) and I think, “The four of us.” Indeed we are three and by adding Rosemary’s absent presence we are four. 

And if it is bedtime I put out the light with a smile on my face.