I strolled down the church aisle, trampling the confetti that littered the floor.
The last of the guests
were saying their goodbyes, and we were finally alone. Happiness surged through my body, escaping
through a single tear that fell down my cheek. This was the beginning of our lives together. A smile
enveloped my face as she stood before me, her emerald eyes glistening with the remnants of tears,
filled with hope and joy. I cupped her delicate face and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, lacing
our fingers together in unity. “I guess you’re stuck with me now,” she whispered, grinning with child-
like mischief. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I replied, and with that, we turned and left the
church, leaving the bell joyously ringing behind us – a celebration of our love.
A rollercoaster of memories, emotions, promises; contained within a single photograph.
That was sixty years ago now, yet I still remember that day as clearly as ever. I stared deeply into her
emerald eyes, caressing the ornate, silver frame, which had become rather worn and tired with age.
They pierced my heart, slowly shattering each small fragment. I was surrounded with these small
rectangles, each of which told a story. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, invading my lungs
and nose, carrying the musty smell of past times. This was no surprise; it had been a number of years
since a single soul had come up here. Darkness engulfed each corner of the room, the only light
coming from an ancient bulb casting a dim glow, revealing shapes that lurked deep within the
shadows.
I smiled a sad smile. It is amazing how one photograph can evoke such powerful feelings. I
kissed her printed face, the closest I will ever come to the woman I once knew. The woman who
once knew me. I grasped the rail above my head and struggled to pull myself off the ground as my
muscles exhausted and my bones stiffened, refusing to offer me any assistance. My body was a flesh
prison, as every small movement became a challenging task and I felt as if every inch of life was
being gradually forced away from me. After what seemed like a lifetime, I had finally descended the
ladder holding a few frames. Our happiest memories.
I remember our first day in this house. It was welcoming from the open door to the wide
hallway, presenting the grand oak staircase. The banister was a twirl of a branch, tamed by a
carpenter’s careful hand, and the grain flowed like a waterfall. Light streamed in from every angle,
bouncing off the polished hardwood floor. It was a delightful home, now worn by age and neglect. I
walked through the wind corridors, no longer suitable for us, until I reached her room. I inhaled,
plastering a smile onto my face and turned the door handle.
Her smile was heart-breaking; although twisted and wrinkled, it held the same joy as it
always did, as if the young happy bride was still with me. However, I knew I had already lost that
woman. “Good morning darling, did you sleep well?” I asked inquisitively, seating myself in the
ancient wooden chair perched next to her bed. “Just fine my dear,” she replied, as full of life as ever.
I presented the frames, and together we admired the small rectangles of joy. I chuckled softly,
poring over each image. The last photo, our wedding.
She held it in her fragile hands, and for I split second I thought I saw a flash of recognition in
her glistening eyes. However, it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Who’s the pretty lady in the
middle? Her dress is beautiful!”
“That’s you my love,” I whispered, forcing the sadness out of my voice and attempting to mask the
disappointment on my face. Her deep forest eyes met mine, and a blank look spread across her face.
“Me?” I had her full attention now, as she pulled the photograph close to her face and scrutinised it.
“Don’t be silly! That’s not me. She’s pretty.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “She is beautiful just like you.” She blushed, grinning mischievously. “Why thank you
my dear, but I’m married,” she giggled. Her words rang out in my mind, destroying me, and I shook
my head, stifling a sob.
There was no way to explain it to her where she could understand. I desperately wanted to
shout and scream, willing her to snap out of it. Instead, I placed the frames back in the box. There
was always tomorrow, and I silently promised that I would not give up on her yet, but it was growing
more difficult by the day.
I gave her hand an endearing squeeze and moved towards the door. Before I could leave,
her tinkling voice rang out behind me, urgent and slightly desperate. Her first word lit the tiny spark
of hope that remained in my heart, but then everything came crashing down around me. This was it,
I realised. “Wait. Before you leave, please tell my husband I would like to see him. I miss him ever so
much.”
