I’m not sure that I can remember his voice. I can still remember his face, and his surprisingly deep and rather dirty chuckle. I used to be able to hear his words, but lately, it’s gone. That was an unexpected loss. Remembering their voices is a part of sensory memory, and this is unfortunately a short-lived form of memory. However, we still know their voices and can recognise them when we hear them. I realised this when I plucked up the courage to watch a recording of the last play we were in together – All the Lonely People by Sue Hawkins – and there was his utterly familiar voice. I now know that I can listen to him speak whenever I want in just a few clicks. And while dreaming about him can be heartbreakingly sad or very confusing, I’ve learned to see it as an opportunity to see him again. In this digital age, we have much greater access to recordings – video on smartphones, voice mails and voice texts, even the sound recorded by a smart doorbell. If you have these audio and video files, save them somewhere safe. You may not want to listen to them now, but you might one day in the future. And if you don’t have any audio, hang on to all your other memories. There are things about them that we will never forget.
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AuthorI was widowed at 50 when Tim, who I expected would be my happy-ever-after following a marriage break-up, died suddenly from heart failure linked to his type 2 diabetes. Though we'd known each other since our early 20s, we'd been married less than ten years. Archives
September 2024
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