The canvas. Darkness, colour and love.

At the white wall in my bedroom, there is one big canvas of all the time that I spent with you, my love. A stranger gave it to me at your funeral last week.

It is messy, difficult. Full of so many colours.

There is a dreamy blue of all the times we drove to the beach, when our kids were still small. There is the white and rosé of our wedding. My old hands trembling by this thought, this day back then was truly my most exciting and beautiful day in, by now officially, all my life. There is the realm between reality and the lands of dreams and you my darling, you were this realm for me.

I find myself looking at this picture and seeing the colour of your eyes.

I look at it and am agitated, nervous, but then again, it calms me down.

It is everything to me. You were everything to me, still are.

This canvas is filled with thus many colours and overshadowing images.

I really do not know what to see in it.

Sometimes, just like sixty years ago, I would love to scream, because I do not understand what this is, between the two of us. It is like an addiction, you are like a necessity in my life. An anchor and an always there shoulder and hand.

You remind me with your calmness that is good to take a minute, to slow down.

But you also remind me, oh canvas, with your straight lines and that certain darkness, that I should never stop, but move on.

Oh, canvas, you represent the love of my life, my best friend.