Last weekend I went to Leitrim and Sligo with London Sister and I forgot my camera. I remembered to bring the charger but that wasn't much use without the camera.
Had I brought my camera I would have taken photographs of the fossils at Easkey. Had I brought my camera I would have taken some pictures of the megalithic burial site at Carrowmore.
Had I brought my camera I would have taken a picture of a grave at Drumcliffe Church. It would not have been the grave of W.B. Yeats for that grave needs no more photographs. I would have taken a picture of a beautiful grave, the grave of a young man who died a few years back, a young man who was only in his mid-twenties. He must have been greatly loved because his last resting place was filled with flowers, his stone was hand carved, the poetry, if it was not as high-flown as that on Yeats' grave was just as heartfelt. I would never have put the photograph on the internet because it would have been an intrusion and an impertinence. The photograph would have been for me and for remembrance.
Had I brought my camera I would have taken a picture of London Sister and Leitrim Sister. That does not matter. I do not need a picture to remind me that I spent some time with two people I love very much. Two people, among the many people, who live, and that I love. We are always close to death but closer still to love and life.