If you look at the photos, you might wonder why they seem dark and smudged, even though it's spring. It's a new kind of filter on the lens. Called grief. It's a bit like looking through the rain all the time, or maybe that's the tears. Hard to tell sometimes.
You'll notice though the buds on the trees. It's April now and the magnolia tree outside my window is flowering. I don't think you ever saw it flower. My daughter doesn't want to leave the magnolia tree and move house but I can't live here anymore. Too many things have happened here. I need a fresh start.
Don't worry, I will take you with me. I'm collecting things slowly that remind me of you, to incorporate into this new life that I have been catapulted into. The one where all our hopes and dreams have been obliterated and I am left with fragments of memories. I will find a space where I can put the half-finished lamp that you were making. Someone will know how to wire it, I'm sure. The new place will have a log-burning stove - your family said maybe I can have yours. I know, you told me about the regulations, I'll work it out, make sure it's safe. I will prod the embers at night with the poker we made and look at the book of photos and words that I will make just like we planned. I'll find someone else to take down your beautiful hooks and find a new wall to fix them onto. I'll bring some things from my mother's house too, find a way to make them scenery to some kind of new life that I can't envisage. Her house is on the market now you know. I would take you there one more time and show you around properly. You could help me pack things away.You would like to see the family albums. I've seen yours now, you know. Your mum and I sit and look at them.You were cute. But I'm not surprised. I'll bring the clock too. The one my father gave me. You took the mechanism to fix so it has no hands at the moment but that suits me fine. There is no time anymore, or too much time.
I would take you to the park but I see you there anyway. And I would take you back to the house at Redmires where we first walked. But maybe it won't be the same without the heather. I know it won't be the same without you. In the summer, we will go to Flamborough - me and your family. That is somewhere we will definitely take you. We will free you to the wind and sea and you can sail like you always wanted to. In time, there will be a bench there wit
h your name on. We will sit and remember you there, my love, and here, and everywhere. I will take you with me this summer and ever after to the places that we went, the places that you have never been. You are a part of me now.
I miss you and love you,
Beverley Writer
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