Also known as Theresa, and coincidentally my lovely wife. This is a portrait taken about three years ago but on my mind now because we are literally half a world apart (at the moment of writing this anyway). I am in the USA visiting my mom and Theresa will be arriving a week later due to work commitments. While being happy to see my mom, enjoying a massive dose of home cooking and lucky enough to catch up with some old friends, I wish she was here to share it all with me. Yeah, I'll see her in 6 days and I'm not incapacitated without her presence, but it strikes me just how much I enjoy her company when I do not have the privilege.
I had been thinking a bit before I left about “the little things” she does that drive me crazy sometimes. Theresa is physically incapable of closing a drawer all the way. She also struggles mightily with turning the window latch to a fully engaged position. I catch myself wondering out loud, with some annoyance in my voice, why this is the case. There are a dozen other things that I wish she did differently, just as there must be a hundred things she wishes I would change.
The last 12 months of my life have been slightly overcast with the shadow of death. Nobody dear, but people within a close enough proximity to stop and make me think. Two people from work. An earthquake victim. Parents of friends. This shadow has made me think about what reaction I would have if I lost T in an unexpected manner such as I have seen too often this year. I have not dwelled on the obvious grief or the unavoidable changes in my life because there is no point trying to “prepare” for those. Strangely, what I have found is that I look at the slightly open drawer or her slippers inexplicably in the middle of the hallway with a fondness instead of frustration. For surely 12 months down the track I would break down in tears at the sight of a drawer slightly ajar.