My Dear, we're still good-bying

"The fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we're still good-bying,
But as long as you love me so,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"

One holiday season in our college years, Mary came over to my (parents) house. Early in the evening, she made a delightful apple cider that my Dad particularly enjoyed. Mary and I spent the later part of the evening in front of the living room fireplace while Dad was in his downstairs man cave (using today's vernacular). Mom retired to bed as I recall. Dad would noisily emerge from his man cave from time to time making sure Mary and I were being proper. Those were the days!

Outside, a soft winter snowfall was in progress putting a frosting on trees, streets, sidewalks and cars. It was one of those magical evenings that makes you want to be in snow country for the holidays.

I can recall two pictures I took that evening. One was of the street scene outside our living room window including my snow covered 1960 Ford Fairlane. I think that picture is still around someplace and it captures the magic. I used very fast black and white film without a flash and the combination of the street lights and the fresh snow provided a stunning effect.  (Click on the picture to enlarge.)

The second picture was of Mary sitting on the floor with the fire behind her. Again, no flash and when the pictures came back, they didn't even bother to print that one. The light from the dying fire and the darkened room made it unprintable.

But, there was a shadow image on the negative! I can remember carefully storing and keeping that negative for years because I could just barely see the outline of Mary sitting on the floor in front of the fire. And from time to time I would study that ghostly image when I wanted to recall good holidays.

For two decades, when I heard that Christmas song with the words "my dear, we're still good-bying", my mind would jump to that snow kissed evening and the ghostly image of Mary I kept for ages. Even after we reconnected 20 years ago and the negative had been long lost, that song would trigger the memories of that special evening.

Now Mary is gone. I am still good-bying. And it hurts more now than it ever did before.