Looking ahead

Snowy Paris through a car window 4/365

The holiday season to me is a hurdle that I have to jump every year. Sixteen years ago at the beginning of December, my father-in-law passed away and less than a month later, after a rather weird Christmas holiday, on a bleak January morning, my husband drove away to a car accident that cost him his life and that was the end of the world as we knew it, my 6 1/2 years old daughter and myself.
I have, of course, survived! What else is there to do? And I have had great moments. Most of the time, I consider myself lucky to live the sort of life I am living.
There are so many things that I enjoy doing, such good friends and family around me. But once in a while, I’ll start thinking of my cup as being half empty instead of half full.

When I took this photo, some time ago, it was snowing outside and I was sitting inside a car. I pointed my camera towards that bike out there, and the person who was driving suggested I rolled down the window, but the drops on the car window just suited my mood of the day.

I never thought of all this while I was taking the shot and later on, wondered why I liked that snapshot.

The bike outside was blurred, just like my life in that passing moment and all I could focus on were the drops on the car window.

No more so… until next year?


20 thoughts on “Looking ahead

  1. I’ve been reading your blog via Martie’s and enjoying living vicariously in Paris. The enforced gaiety over Dec/Jan is difficult for many people. Thank you for sharing your story.

  2. I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. The photo could have been taken right out of my living room window today. There is a special feeling of cold, damp, dullness associated with the greys and the raindrops. There is also a promise of happiness in the light, as well. Glad you are writing here again.

  3. I hope you have skipped over the holiday hurdle and will now go scampering merrily into 2009.

    Sometimes it is as hard to see through the tears as through the raindrops on a window. Life gives us much but also steals from us when it feels like it. But of course, life does not feel or have any meaning. It is we who give it meaning.

    What I like about your photo is that it shows a world beyond the tears.

  4. I feel for you, Claude. To be in such a situation when so many around are insisting on fun, fun, fun…

    But “Tout passe, tout casse, tout lasse”; or in the more portentous Victorian words of a poem my mother liked:

    “For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,
    Seem here no painful inch to gain,
    Far back, through creeks and inlets making,
    Comes silent, flooding in, the main.

    And not by eastern windows only,
    When daylight comes, comes in the light;
    In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!
    But westward, look, the land is bright!”

    And the photo is lovely, by the way. I can never get those shots quite right.

  5. WONDERFUL photo! and thanks to tut-tut for pointing out the RED CAR!

    my friend lida was a photographer in her day (almost 90 now), and she has a photo of cars in the rain that she took from inside her car. she makes prints of it and cuts it up into business cards.

    half full? half empty? LIFE, for sure.

  6. Thank you for sharing, Claude. I’m sure it was not easy. Hopefully you have more “half full” days than “half empty” ones now. All the best in 2009.

  7. Dear Claude, thanks for sharing. I hadn’t remembered that those two losses came so close together in your life — doubles the hurt — and when one is an unforeseen accident, it’s even worse.
    I love the red car and Autolycus, that is a marvelous poem. Thanks!
    Take care and pyl8r — Sara

  8. That photo is so expressive. It’s not surprising if you feel down at this time of year but, from what little I (think) I know of you from your blog you will not let yourself be depressed for long. Of course, you will never forget the pain but you will take pleasure in the happy memories and keep moving forward. Thank you for sharing your feelings. I hope the support of your fellow bloggers will help to cheer you up.

  9. A friend of mine referred me to your Blog. I’m profoundly touched by all your photos…..you have such an eye for it.

    Thank you for sharing your past…you’re in my thoughts and prayers.
    Life is a venture….travel it well.

    Sending you blessings from afar (Hong Kong).

  10. Oh Claude, I feel for you. That photo captured your mood and thoughts that day. We never get over our losses but we go on and survive, our loved ones wouldn’t want it any other way.

    Five months after my husband died, my sister-in-law died. She was like a sister to me so it was one loss after another.

    We know how precious life is. I think that is one of the reasons we make the most of every day!

    Hugs to you

  11. Oh I am sorry, Claude.
    I understand a little of how you feel since my husband died suddenly, far too young. It was the day after 9/11, so I always feel weird when I see TV pictures of the collapsing twin towers each anniversary.

    But onward we go. You are a wonderful photographer.

  12. Yes, as Millie says, hugs to you, Claude. Life and death are our reality, and we have to find a balance between the two and deal with both. Does that make any sense? Bises et à bientôt j’espère. Et oui, quelle belle photo !

  13. Am just getting back to blogging a bit, so am catching up with you. This photo is so expressive, Claude, and the comments you made about it are perfect. That’s how we see life sometimes — no matter how few or many years have passed.

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