I had decided that it was time to visit London again to see if it was as I remembered.  As I am a creature of narrow habits there were some things that it was mandatory to see again.  So once again I popped into the National Portrait Gallery to see Richard III, and this other portrait.

I can’t remember the name of the sitter (and don’t know if I ever knew it), but this picture  was featured in one of my earliest posts.   I was impressed that this portrait was unlike any of the others in the room, that it was done more in the style of a splash page in a graphic novel (not that such a thing existed at the time).   Ordered as a memorial portrait by the widow of the subject, it features highlights of the life and death of this man.   And as I was in a rather raw and fragile state of widowhood myself when I first saw it, I appreciated the underlying sentiment of the piece.  (I attributed her motivation as love, because it seems so personal a display).

He was born, went to college and had the sort of career that persons of his social class had doing something or other (possibly involving eating).

But then he died and I assume those that knew him are eulogizing him.  His missus is left to carry on as best she can.

And then his missus wants everyone to know that she gave him a fine send off.  This portrait resonated with me, showing that grief is universal, however one expresses it.