Evening, dearest. We held the memorial this evening. You were the guest of honour in absentia. Just as you wanted, there was plenty of booze, good food, laughter and hugs. We didn’t get maudlin. Yes, we cried. Yes, we miss you. We can’t believe you’re gone. You’ve made such an impact on so many lives, my love. Everyone loves you.
I know I promised myself I’d be brave and give a eulogy, but in recent days, I realised I couldn’t do it. All it would have done was torture our family and friends with my unstoppable tears, my inarticulate sobbing. Instead, I let written words and photos do the talking for me. I made sure there was humour as well as love. I helped everyone in the room laugh as well as cry.
I let them see some of your own beautiful photos, the ones you barely showed anybody. It makes me so sad that you hid this talent away. I have so many to work through and post-process for you. It means having to interpret your work; I can only hope I see in the raw files what you intended. This is something I wish I’d done before you died.
Everyone told me I’d done a great job, that they had a lovely evening and the photo presentations were perfect. That I’d done you proud. I don’t know. I know I didn’t say or think ‘goodbye’, ‘job done’, ‘move on’. That’s a relief. A lot of people said you were there, watching. I’m not sure. I like to think you’re off doing something much more interesting than watching us remember you. You never liked being the centre of attention. This memorial was for us, to help us deal with your loss.
There was one moment when I started to get very weepy. My mind summoned up your voice telling me if I wasn’t going to be a happy drunk, then I wasn’t allowed to be a drunk at all. I stopped drinking at that point. Nothing worse than a miserable drunk at a party, eh?
Tonight was the formality a lot of people needed. I found myself just wanting them to know how much I love you, how incredible you are. We’re all so lucky to have met you, love (and I’ve known that all along).
Take care, dear heart. I love you more than anything.
You're gone 