May 9th 2008
Today my son comes back to the car with his hair newly cut after two years of letting it grow long, and he looks so much like his uncle that I call him Huw, and keep calling him Huw, and it doesn't matter how many times I tell myself this is impossible, when I catch a glimpse of him I still have a fleeting impression that he is Huw, then realise again that he is not. It is like waking from a dream.
They look alike I tell Hodmandod Senior, but he doesn't agree. We compare photos - different eyes, he says, different nose, different everything... But the sum of the parts is somehow still the same to my obstinate brain, and I am glad that something, even if it is just this, lives on.
They look alike I tell Hodmandod Senior, but he doesn't agree. We compare photos - different eyes, he says, different nose, different everything... But the sum of the parts is somehow still the same to my obstinate brain, and I am glad that something, even if it is just this, lives on.
posted by Clare Dudman at 10:26 pm
3 Comments:
It seems to me to be a gift of closure, Clare. After all the grief in the world life carries on and those you love stay with you.
It could be something that's not visible in a picture, like how he carries himself, mannerisms.
It's nice, though.
I know that feeling of someone close to you living on through the likeness of a relative ... it's very comforting.
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