I'll never find all the books now. But then people will say exactly the same of me. 'I had one of his, Short Wave, I think, about 1984. It used to be on that shelf.'
1.Feeling is a complex state of being. You feel what there is, but you also feel what is missing or extra to your feeling. One says what one says because it is there to be said and felt. Suddenly thinking that she would have been precisely ninety today entails a sadness, as does the photograph.
A thought, perhaps an unworthy one. My mother was a photographer and, later, hand-colourist and retoucher. I looked closer at the picture, around her waist. See those extra shades of lighter material almost like lines? She may have modified things a little. She hand-coloured photographs of us as children so it is not impossible. But that, to persist with my book metaphor, would also be part of her authorship. She was a professional, after all and had done this for others countless times. We are how we wish to be perceived. It is not our truth: it is more than that.
Is this over-personal? I don't think so. I am looking for the opposite of the personal - some account of what actually goes on in anyone's regard to their dead. It is, what I think, literature is: an attempt to be honest about the nature of things in the language of common myth, something we listen to and balance in our hearts and heads, trying to hear what's true in it.