My beloved husband, Kent, died in January 2012, 3 years after diagnosis of a brain tumour. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter 3 months old. He and I were far too young. I am now hurtling through the black space of life without him.

Saturday, 26 May 2012


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."


  1. Thank you for writing about photos. Kent was a marvellous photographer. I remember standing with him on our balcony overlooking the creek in Ras Al Khaimah. He gave me a full tour of my camera and showed me a couple of tricks I still use to this very day. He took countless great photos. He framed well and he focussed superbly, like that lovely shot of the blossom with you smiling behind.

    I asked Kent how many photos he would take and then not keep because they were no good. He gave me that handsome smile and said "none"! That was the difference between him and me. He was careful and not just as a photo guy. As much as it stings, you are right to remember. We can't turn back the clock, but it's okay to flick through the pages of yesterday.

    Deep breaths, friend.

    1. Ah I like this. He was very chilled out, and was fairly untidy in his younger days, but he was a perfectionist too. The old "I won't do it unless I can do it well" perhaps even applied to photo taking!