This article was written for Annabel & Grace, which is now part of Rest Less.
Mine was taken a good twenty five years ago. I looked quite pretty in it, actually very pretty I think. Dressed in an Indian-looking pink dress with sequins (where is that dress?), I appeared extremely happy, relaxed and blissfully unaware of the camera.
“Who on earth would need your photo?” the hubby asked. “If you need it for the police or something… if they want a picture, give them that one.” I appear to be rather youthful and interestingly casual in it. I’d like to meet that person. She looks fun to be around. It’s sad then that she’s not around anymore, I mused.
“Why would they need your picture?”
“I don’t know … If I go ‘missing’. You know full well that I am always going ‘missing’!
“Or for my funeral card?”
“You said you didn’t want a funeral … do I have to organise a funeral now?” The husband’s voice had panic written all over it. “No, you’re right. I don’t want a funeral. So forget the funeral card.” The hubby’s face started to relax.
“But if I died in unusual circumstances, then they’ll need that picture!” My husband looked concerned again. This sounded like my demise would create a huge amount of organisation and delegation, neither of which he would enjoy much. He probably thought he could just be left to sob for a few days.
“Or maybe they’ll want a photograph for my book, which might be published posthumously.” “Oh no! Do I have to get your book published as well?” Blind terror had set in now. “Goodness, I don’t know …. maybe. Just give it over to somebody when asked, OK?”
As I spend an inordinate amount of time organising a swift and easy transition when ‘I shuffle off this mortal coil’, the least my dearly beloved can do is hand over a pleasingly attractive photograph of his much missed wife! What a ridiculous fuss he was making! If he’s not careful I will hand over a beastly photo of him when I am asked to.
If you would like to read another funny blog post from Miranda, click here