When my husband died suddenly I took to framing lots of pictures of him. Photos of him as a youth, in the army, footballing, on a motorbike, fishing , dancing etc. I placed these in strategic places around the house and would refer to them for advice, for a chat...to look at things. Daft really. I thought that I could talk with him ---or to him, that he would see things that I could see. Each night as I put out the bedroom light I'd say goodnight to the three pictures of him hanging on the opposite wall. When in the lounge I'd ask ' him ' if he was enjoying a particular TV programme. On the shelf above the computer desk he sat looking down over me...like a protector. He really was " in the frame". Many of the photos had been taken years before we had even met, but I carefully restored them and framed them. Trying somehow to capture the essence of him. It didn't really work. After about 18 months of mourning , grieving and heartbreak I had to remove the pictures for my own wellbeing. I put those and the photo albums in the attic, just retaining one photo on the shelf in the spare room . framed along with a photo of his cats. He is gone but will never be forgotten for I carry his image in my mind and in my heart. Securely framed.
Goodnight
Goodnight my dear heart
I wish you were here
To hold me and love me
And keep me so near.
Goodnight my loved one
Wherever you are,
And hurry home to me
Back from afar.
Goodnight my darling
'Til we never more part
And we can be together
Heartbeat to heart.
Goodnight my precious
For one day I'll say,
"Good morning my darling,
It's now break of day. "
Kath Curtiss
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