My pride and joy possession - a huge, beautifully framed wedding photo (we were married a year before bulbar symptoms started), became unbearable for me to look at. It is carefully wrapped in a blanket in a cupboard. Those incredibly strong hands at my waist, just totally undo me. Even now, more than 4 years after losing him, I would weep uncontrollably if I were to look at them in that image.
I can look at other wedding photos on my computer and give a sad smile.
I find that when I am around Chris's children (who stayed away as much as possible as it was 'too hard to see him like that'), they talk of the person he was and when he comes up in conversation we can all laugh and remember things and it seems easy enough. But alone, well I looked after him alone, so alone the beast that is ALS/FTD takes over so many of the memories still. I guess that is why they stayed away, and told me several times how glad they were that he had me to take care of him. They have retained seeing him as he was before ALS by not seeing the full horror that is ALS.
But I do have enough of the good memories, and at times like when I am doing things outside I may come across a bit of concrete we put in place, and I see the heart with initials in it and remember the carefree, silly, romantic man who had to record something about our love in every possible way he could think of.