My dear Steve..January 09, 2012
Mostly this blog is about vintage. But, as my about me page says, I want to write some autobiograpical reflections too. Write down things that are happening in my personal life ... well ... I don't do that very often as it's everything but interesting and some things are just too private.
I know that many people are not waiting for whining or heavy loaded posts, but sometimes one gets emotional over a big loss in her life and she needs to write it down. Share it with others whom suffered such a huge loss. My days are still soaked in mourn and it's effecting my daily doings, still. It makes me ill and I am not ready yet to pick up my life. The feeling of his loss grew bigger due to the holidays. Christmas, new years eve and also my upcoming birthday .. I've wanted to spend it all .. with him.
In my life I've had to miss many persons and eventually I built a fence around me; blocked the feelings of missing and loss out of self protection. Until the passing away of my dear Steve, which was a new kind of missing for me, something beyond all the empty feelings I've felt throughout the years. The fact that someone who you love so much isn't physically around you anymore, is devastating. And there's nothing you can do about it, which is ten thousand times more devastating.
Steve loved my vintage way of living and my vintage appearance. He supported it in every way. He became enthusiastic about it himself, too. He even wanted to learn the lindy hop so he could go out dancing with me. He told me about the lives of his family in the forties - and in particular his grandmother whom he loved só dearly. He learned me all about history.
He was so proud of me and my vintage photoshoots. Even carried one of my Spitfire photo's in the inside pocket of his coat at all times showing it to his little one or just to everyone and their mother. The photo was so worn out at the end that he wanted a new one. I never got the chance to give it to him. But on the day I said goodbye to his body, I put the exact same photo in his coffin. It's with him till eternity now. In the clinic he gave me a little wooden heart and said that I should take it how I wanted it. In return I gave him a little silver victorian key which he attached to the necklace with a gemstone his daughter gave him. It stood as a methaphore that hé won the key to my heart. He never took it off and he's buried with that little key ( and the stone ofcourse!). I put so much comfort out of that thought.
Every photoshoot I have .. I think of him. His supportive way of talking, his encouragement, his enthusiasm for everything I did. White butterflies are the symbol of a deceased loved one, and, before I had my second Spitfire photoshoot two months after his death, I asked him out loud if he would be there. That same day while I was on the set, posing, a white butterfly landed near the Spitfire and me and sat there for a while. Watching. Coincidence? Maybe. But for me it was not. I just knew from that very moment, even though he passed away, he was still encouraging me! ... And despite contrary feelings I just knew that he never left me.
As Steve would joke ( for he loved to tease me ): Oh I just came to watch that beautiful Spitfire. The beautiful girl is just a great addition! And then he would laugh. His wonderful characteristic laugh that everyone knew, that everyone loved so much, and which we still hear when we think about him.
I miss this Geordie so sorely.