Remembering the dead
“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them”. George Eliot.
Instead of saying someone is dead, many people use euphemisms, which can be ambiguous. I think it is better to be straightforward and just say someone has died. It is as though they have not considered the meaning of the words they use, and what those words would mean to the person who is mourning.
My husband died a few years ago, and if one more person expresses sympathy by saying they are sorry for my loss, as though I have carelessly mislaid him, I will … well this is a polite essay, so I will leave it to your imagination1.
I appreciate that is sometimes too stark to use the word dead, and some euphemisms are understandable because they have meaning. For instance, that someone has ‘passed’. In medieval times, it was thought that the soul physically left the body, and the word ‘pass’ meaning ‘to go, to move’, was once in common use.
The first time some kindly soul talked about my ‘late’ husband, just after my husband died, I thought it was hilarious, which upset the kindly soul. She did not know that my darling husband was always late for everything. I continue to use the expression as a quick way of indicating that the husband I have mentioned is dead. Since saying “my late husband” gets the message across, but saying “my dead husband” stops the conversation.
We are so fortunate to have photographs of friends and family. Imagine how hard it must have been, before the age of photography, not to have an image of loved ones who had died2 or moved far away. But photographs do not tell the whole story. Sometimes words are needed to add depth to a photograph.
This is a photograph of my grandmother Dorothy. She brought me up and we were very close. Though as you can see from her expression, she was a woman of strong opinions, a matriarch and indomitable. She also had a wicked sense of humour.
As she is seen in this photo, Dorothy always preferred to sit at the dining table in the main room, rather than in an easy chair. Her seat was in front of the fire, and she had a clear view of the window, and therefore any visitor who passed by. Often, she had a glass of whisky on the table, in her favourite thistle glass.
She had sat in that same position at the dining table for many years. When she and my grandfather ran the tourist shop / post office, the summer was very busy. Dorothy would get up very early to sit at the table. She then had a quiet hour before anyone else got up, sipping her tea and putting prices on the stock. In the Autumn (Fall), she would sit at the table and prepare fruit for jam, jellies and marmalade. Of course, she also cooked and served the meals we ate at the table.
This room has been used by generations of our family. When Barbara arrived as a bride in 1903, the house was renovated. This was the main room, and the fireplace had a range where all the cooking was done. Wallpaper was too expensive, so pine panelling was put up - much nicer in my opinion.
My grandmother loved the plates on the dresser, in a blue willow pattern. The plates were not valuable, as they were made in their thousands, but my grandmother said that before buying, you should always make sure they were authentic.
To check, she would recite the following3;
“Two birds flying high, a Chinese vessel, sailing. A bridge with three men, sometimes four, a willow tree, hanging o'er. A Chinese temple, there it stands. An apple tree with apples on, a crooked fence to end my song.”
Dorothy’s white hair was sparse in old age, and she tied it up in a tiny bun. She loved to wear a bow in her hair, but in those days there were few pre-tied hair bows available. So, she wore men’s bow ties, attached to a comb. Sadly, you can’t see her bow in this picture.
In her youth my grandmother sewed beautiful embroidered tablecloths - I still have a couple. But her fingers became swollen with arthritis, and she was unable to sew or wear the rings she loved. But she always wore earrings, usually dangly ones. Sadly, her coats and scarves conspired to unhook most of her earrings and most of them fell out, scattering around the village, never to be seen again. In the end Dorothy gaily wore unmatched earrings.
Dorothy died aged 93, in 2004.
Can you tell the story behind the photo?
Recalling small details about a person who has died reinforces and shares the characteristics of the person they were. These are attributes that are not obvious in photos, and rarely gathered from letters or diaries (if there are any). But these details live in your memory - please share them by telling the stories behind the photos.
“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them”. George Eliot.
Since we are talking about pet peeves, I also dislike the overuse of the word sorry. I am just as guilty of saying sorry, when I am not in any way to blame for something (such as a death), when I actually mean I am sad. “I am sad to hear that your husband died.”
In the 19th Century, when photography was expensive and not readily available, photographs were often taken of dead people, especially children. In some cases, the person was positioned so it looked as though they were alive. Although this seems morbid to us nowadays, it was often the only photograph of the person the family would ever have. Read more about the practice here.
If you would like to read the love story associated with the willow pattern, read this article from the Victoria Gallery & Museum.
What a fabulous tale, Kate. Stories in pictures was at the core of our (beloved and now-offline) Ponga.com software. It's funny you mention the Willow Pattern, like an ancient Chinese Romeo & Juliette myth.
I'd used that in Ponga as an early example of how stories were told in porcelain, quilts, and other domestic arts long before we had photography. I started collecting old transfer ware as well (because they were much less expensive than originals, of course.) I have a few pieces made for export in occupied Japan. Though modern, they add another layer to the story. These are a Red Willow variation. Sigh. That was fun, thank you.
That is a lot from three photos. Well done.