I look at old photos sometimes. You know, of Kent. It sounds very obvious, and very movie-like. Hugging clothes in the wardrobe, gazing at photos and listening to answer phone messages over and over - that kind of thing. But I do look at photos. They bring him back a bit. It's awful that this is what we now have. I hate hate hate that he is to become a memory. It's unbearable. It's horrific, inhumane that people can, as the bible says, become one, and then for it to come to this.
We have a lot of photos from our travels. I wanted to soak up every place we went to and not forget it. And now if I look at photos it's not the mountains and streets and lakes and churches that I want to remember. To think that we took all those photos and all I want to see is him. To think that I spent so much emotional energy being homesick while we were away, and trying to hold on to all these places we went to in an attempt to carry them with me always.
I bought a postcard in France just before we returned home and gave it to Kent on the aeroplane. It has a picture of a couple of kids riding a merry-go-round aeroplane and talking about flying around the world. I commented on the back about all the wonderful things we had seen in the world and said "and still my favourite place in all of it is beside you."