What he says about old photographs is so true... for me, the same goes with letters (a notebook) and remembered conversations (smiles and sorrow) and sitting in a car in the sun in perfect pure ineffable happiness... (but they are not dead)
Peace. Perhaps I should dedicate this poem, one last time: to myself.
To a Shade
William Butler Yeats
Go, unquiet wanderer,
And gather the Glasnevin coverlet
About your head till the dust stops your ear,
The time for you to taste of that Salt breath
And listen at the corners has not come;
You had enough of sorrow before death --
Away, away! You are safer in the tomb.
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