We think we know where we are headed in our own unique path of life. Then we get blindsided by something we never believed could happen to us. Losing a child, especially for a mother, whose bond begins with conception, is in my opinion, the worst. My friend Jenny lost her baby the other day, and my heart cries for her. I wish I could be there for her. I pray she will move past the heartache which overwhelms her right now. Her grief is my grief, knowing what it is to lose something so precious, I feel her pain as if it were my own.
I found out by accident, because a little voice told me to check on her. I then saw the photo she put up with the words “I miss you”, and knew something was terribly wrong. I then looked to her posts on FB and realized there was a death. I had already sent her a message, waiting for the response, I searched for more information. I did not even know she was pregnant, but sensed something different about her lately. I wondered if she had been married, if this was why I felt such happiness around her. Perhaps she did get married, maybe not, now is not the time to ask. It was the life she was carrying for sure which gave her such a glow and I wished she had told me so I could have been part of that happiness.
There were small, seemingly insignificant things happen in my apartment yesterday, which I would have missed were I someone who did not pay attention to such irregularities. These oddities made me pay attention to my phone, which I normally ignore, especially if I am at home. They were perfectly timed to the moments I received messages from 2 different people, one was Jenny. I went to bed with a heavy heart, realizing how much she was hurting, knowing I could do nothing to ease her pain. I prayed my spirit would leave my body through the night to be with her, but there was no sign of this happening when I woke. I will keep trying.
Right now my life is ruled by financial troubles, ones I cannot find easy solutions for. For this reason I am unable to give the promised help to Maria, and this also weighs heavy on my mind. Hearing the news last night about the baby, I realized how messed up the world is. Our priorities revolve around making money, paying bills, acquiring “things” rather than life and enjoying it. Hearing about such a loss, brings everything into perspective though.
Coincidently, I watched a movie last night as I coloured on the couch, called “Penguin Bloom”. An excellent production, based on a true story about a woman who had a tragic fall, breaking her back. Penguin is a bird, a very special bird which came into her life to help her through her recovery time. For those of us who understand the connection of spirit, animals, birds and really all things, will be touched by this story. At least I hope so. That I watched on the same day I learned about Jenny, and sort out my own financial mess, quietly amazes me. It was another exclamation mark showing me what’s important.
I have 4 children, but am mother to none. Abandonment worse than death in some ways because you know they are out there, they just don’t want you in their life. They don’t want to share their the events which mark important times in their lives, and you have no idea why. I live with the knowledge I am an embarrassment to them, that they hate me, or at least do not not love me – could never have loved me, if they could walk away without looking back. Death, as love, comes in different ways to us all. It is how or if we choose to keep going which has importance.
In Ecuador I realized I have never created my drawings for money, although I have earned money from selling prints and cards over the years. I was never comfortable with the idea of selling something so much a part of my inner being. Patrick was the one who pushed me to do so. It became something I felt I owed him because he had spent so much time scanning and formatting each piece so they could be sold. It is a reminder of how easy it is to fall into the trap of pleasing someone else, despite our own discomfort. Today I am selling art again, even though I had decided never to do so again. I wonder if I am doing the right thing.
The other day I created an image in collaboration with a friend, the first picture I have not wanted to sell in a very long time. The Tree Spirit. It soothes me when I take the time to look at it and I really do not want to let it go, so I will keep it. I have realized why it is so special to me over the few days I was able to be home just being in my space. Because of the way the face is coming out of the tree, I am reminded of feelings about my father and his ever present spirit. Hidden among the leaves the face emerges from the trunk of the tree, visible only to those who take the time to observe their surroundings. Like so many Spirit signs in my life, I find this image strongly depicts my connection to what cannot be seen or proven. The gift of my fathers love is there hiding in plain sight and it brings me such comfort.
If my art, my writing can be described, not only as my inner voice, but also the remnants of a life taken, emerging slowly as I can find the pieces, then I am satisfied. Selling it does not give me satisfaction. It is in the knowing others can see those same fragments I pulled out of the hurricane of emotion to rebuild my spirit, that fills me with joy. What would it look like, I wonder, if every image drawn was placed on one large canvas in the order they were drawn? I believe I would see the progression as I put the thousands of pieces of my soul back together. Each image representing some aspect of my true self which I was not allowed to be growing up and growing old.
Over the weekend, spending so much time in my creative space, I truly felt the importance of the writing and painting in my ability to process my pain. We all find our way through each day. I wonder how Jenny will get through the moments, the days, then months as she mourns the loss of a life she barely knew. She is strong, she has much support and love from family and friends, but I know the pain cannot be fixed by anything or anyone except her own willingness to do so. Each day for me is a new experience in learning as the smallest thing can derail me. So I am very grateful for the writing and drawing – my outlets for moving forward. I cannot help but wonder if she will face something similar. Her way through it, I’m sure will be very different from mine, and I send her all my love in support.
I still do not understand why I am here. Nor do I know my purpose. I just keep getting up each morning enjoying the quiet of the early mornings when the town is still sleeping. Maybe I have no purpose, just another cog in the wheel, part of something I cannot see in whole. Does it matter? Should I be content with just getting up, going to work, coming home, going to sleep, so I can do it all over again? Seems kind of empty. Coming back has taught me to let go of my dreams again, they seem to have no place here. My desire to help others falling short of the big dreams in my heart. The goal further away each day as I fall into the familiar routine of work, eat, sleep.
So I look to my Tree Spirit, thinking perhaps my only purpose in life has been to put the pieces of my soul back together. The emptiness, the quiet, the sorrow and pain all reminding me of how much was lost. But this is how I have also found the positive side of pain and sorrow, each memory reminding me I was once loved by the most important people in my world……my parents. Always the thread of such beauty has wound its way through my life as is shown in my art. The bright colors, the eyes of each animal always watching, the life in those eyes as they tell a story. My life is no longer lost, it has been found one pen stroke or one brush stroke at a time. I have my father to thank for coming back to show me the way.
I have been blindsided more times than I can count. It happens to all of us and we wonder how we will get through it each and every time, even as we tell ourselves we will. I wonder how many of us actually believe at the time that we will get through it. Really, when I think about it, I see it is not getting through it which matters, because there may be a time when we do not. Rather it is our willingness to try which counts