The Edge of Love

In my house I’ve always made it a habit to fill the walls with everything I could make hang from a nail or hook or removable sticky situation.  I like the texture it adds, I like the interest of the things.  My walls are fun to look at.

When I was headed up north for her funeral (Life Celebration?) I took all of the family photos off the walls.  Pictures of her with just her sister, pictures of her by herself taken by her sister.  The entire family.   A Lake Superior photo of just the three of us taken shortly after I buried my husband.  That was a one of my first good days.  They were all fun days.  I especially love the black and white photo strip taken at an old-school photo booth in St. Louis.

After the week was over I brought back a double-walled produce box of all of my photos to go back on the walls.

I can’t put them back – I’m not ready to have the constant reminder.  My baby won’t be part of any more photos.  This is all I have for her whole life.  I won’t have anything else to add.  Her constant childhood looking at me.  She was on the precipitous of adulthood.  I mourn for what she will miss.

I have to put them back. My fractured family needs her here.  She can’t go.  She won’t fade.  She lingers with us.  I have to put them back.

After two and a half weeks, my walls are in the order they were before.

I’ll continue to add new photos as time envelopes our lives.  The photos will always be a little lighter.  I’ll always find a space where she should have been standing.  There will be an edge of light I’ll look for and find, because I need it to be there.

I stand on the precipitous of love.  0 stars.  Would not recommend.


One thought on “The Edge of Love

  1. Suzanne Scott September 12, 2017 / 920179America/Detroit

    Pictures, socks on the floor, hair brush, etc. little reminders of a life lived. It’s so terribly hard to put them away. Someday, maybe.


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