Photographic Memories

I take another swig of scotch, the glass once half full now empty. Tears roll down my face, but  the alcohol won't numb the pain this time.

DRIP

A tear drop on the crumpled sepia tone photograph of you the most beautiful bride I'd ever glimpsed. Those big green eyes that saw deep into my soul, fifty years later I still could not believe you were mine. A small smile formed across my face as I remembered the moment you walked through the churches old oak door in the long white dress your mother made you. All my anxieties disappeared because even though the pews were filled with our family and friends all I could see was you.

DROP

A tear drips on an even older photograph I had never seen before. A little toddler bubble gum smile, hair up in pigtails. You sat on a rug surrounded by building blocks that had been abandoned to suck on your big toe instead. I laughed as I realised this was from the box of photographs you kept hidden in the very back of the cupboard.

DRIP

A tear drops on a faded photograph, you were pushing our first child on an old tire swing in our front yard.  So many years had passed yet it seemed like just yesterday we were starting a family of our own. I turned and looked out the kitchen window where the tree still towered toward the sky the swing hanging by a thread.

DROP

A tear drips on a photograph of you and our youngest daughter at her wedding, our daughter the splitting image of you, we were so happy for her that day and hiding our excitement of a newly empty nest.

DRIP

A tear drops on the photograph of us standing beneath the Eiffel tower.  I had hoped to take you there on our honeymoon all those years ago, but I finally carried out the promise on retirement.

DROP

A tear drips on a photograph of you when you went through your mid life crisis, black leather jacket, leopard print leggings and the motor bike that nearly cost us the house, my love you were a wild one.

I laugh out loud for the first time, since you passed and I feel guilty, how can I laugh when you are no longer here with me.

I sit here surrounded by still shots of your life, how do I choose just some of them to be looped with your favourite song at your funeral. There are hundreds of photographs of you, and every picture tells a thousand words.

How do I show your life was so much more? You're laugh sounded like wind chimes on a sunny day in spring, your smile as bright as the closest star, the way your hugs kept me warm in winter, the way you took my breath away, your strength, courage and passion. Every day was another page in your story. How can I tell a story that is not mine in only a few photographs?

I wish you were here.