The salt and pepper shakers graced our family table for as long as I can remember. The cut glass shakers stood side by side at every meal, through the seasons, and the years. As a child, I thought that with their tall, tapered silhouettes, they were miniature, crystal Eiffel Towers.
Not long ago, one of the freshly washed shakers tumbled onto the kitchen tile floor, shattering into dozens of pieces. Gone forever. The lone salt shaker kept vigil on a dark shelf, until one day, it found a new life as a charming bud vase.
I miss my husband. Brande and I were a couple for 25 years - a quarter century of living. He was my lover, best friend, and mentor. Just like perfectly matched salt and pepper shakers, we were always together. Even when we lived in two different cities, he would phone every night. We were two individuals, complete on our own, yet so much more together. He died of liver cancer in October of 2014.
The salt shaker photographic metaphor is a reminder to those of us who are left behind when a spouse or partner dies, that even though they are gone forever, we can create a new life for ourselves.
As for my husband, I like to think he's found a heavenly fishing spot. Just look at the shadow cast by the rose leaves and stem in the photo below. It's a message to me, that he's alright!
Not long ago, one of the freshly washed shakers tumbled onto the kitchen tile floor, shattering into dozens of pieces. Gone forever. The lone salt shaker kept vigil on a dark shelf, until one day, it found a new life as a charming bud vase.
I miss my husband. Brande and I were a couple for 25 years - a quarter century of living. He was my lover, best friend, and mentor. Just like perfectly matched salt and pepper shakers, we were always together. Even when we lived in two different cities, he would phone every night. We were two individuals, complete on our own, yet so much more together. He died of liver cancer in October of 2014.
The salt shaker photographic metaphor is a reminder to those of us who are left behind when a spouse or partner dies, that even though they are gone forever, we can create a new life for ourselves.
As for my husband, I like to think he's found a heavenly fishing spot. Just look at the shadow cast by the rose leaves and stem in the photo below. It's a message to me, that he's alright!
Photo credit: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.
White rose: Florigens Designs
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