Today I worked out park acceptance and lease with the mobile home park where my mother lived for 20 years. I will begin settling in October 1st or so. There are not words to express the relief and joy at having finally brought things to an ending and a new beginning. And then I came home and drank way too much coffee, Good things excite me to damn near mania, anyway. I am bouncing off the walls.
My head is so full of ideas whirling around the wind off it could cause lift off! Add to that my son helped me upload to my laptop photos that have been on it for like two years and It had beautiful family photos with my parents who passed in the last year. I just sat and let them all play as a slide show. I did not know how to do it. (Hey, I am honest.) It was so good to see their faces.
I stopped by and checked on the home, when I paid the rent and was happy and instantly content. When the door swung open I could still smell my mother’s perfume.
I don’t know where a person is suppose to be with their grief, this amount of time, after a loved one’s passing. Or how a person is suppose to carry themselves when they lose both parents, 2 months apart, at 90 and 89. I will be 59 this year and I just became an orphan. They were both absolutely the world to me from the moment I opened my eyes. I have been just getting out of bed each day and doing the best I can. But now I get to reassemble their belongs together with mine in the family home.
My parents sent me to art school. The first thing I ever cast was a bronze bust of my father’s head, that he sat 200 hours for, while he healed from cancer surgery in 1975. I had a private room in Watterson Towers at ISU and I was 18. My mother and I both loved writing poetry and photographing. She was so supportive. They hung everything I painted, although some of it was pretty dreadful. They would not let me remove it from the walls. My father told me if I didn’t like it — paint better.
My work has evolved figurative but also very abstract. I had even before buying my first oils, decided I wanted to work on portraiture and drawing. So it makes so much sense to me that before my memory fades that I capture the essence of being there in those moments with them.
And my gut tells me, that when the series is done, it will say something to me that I need to hear to heal. I will just let the work guide me to it. I may even be bad at the start but I will post anyway and own it. And paint better.