starfish

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Thank you!

dance at bougival

Dearest Mama,

Last night, as I was preparing to leave the Christmas Eve festivities at the house you and Frank shared, my younger stepsister asked me to stay a bit because she had something she wanted to give me. So I did, finding it an odd request, but willing to keep an open mind.
So, most of the family has gone and I've moved things out to my car. Your first granddaughter and her husband are still there, as is her mother. I'm not sure just who else might have been there at this point. I was going to put the blue casserole dish into my car, but that's when I was called over to the living room and time just seemed to s l o w d o w n. I had walked from the kitchen into the dining room area and saw that there was a blank place on the wall between the dining and living rooms, a place which had held a painting you had loved.
After you died, my stepdad had asked if there was anything of yours which I might want. I immediately replied that I wanted the Renoir print of "Dance at Bougival". With a serious look, he said he liked that painting very much, too, then he told me, "Okay, you can have it when I die." I had smiled and said, "Well, fine, that means I'll never get it! You're gonna outlive all of us!"
Every time I came to see him and we sat there in the living room to chat, I would remind him that I still wanted "the dancers" and he would grin and tell me I would have to wait until he died. "Fine," I would say, "that means I'll never get it and will have to just visit it here." Then we would both laugh and talk of other things.
I truly did think he would outlive all of us. He just seemed to be indomitable, going strong regardless of having had COPD for almost twenty years and neuropathy in his legs for almost as long.
Apparently, I was mistaken and a simple task - doing laundry - led to a fall which led to his death. Honestly, I think I am still in a state of disbelief about that.
Back to the story I was telling you (as if you didn't already know!). So, my stepsister is standing in the living room and I realize, as I look at her, that she is supporting a painting. And I look up at the wall and see the blank spot where YOUR painting should be. And time s l o w s d o w n as I realize what is happening. She tells me that she knows her dad intended me to have this painting, this Renoir beloved by my mother, and she and her siblings want me to have it. And I start crying. I am finally getting the painting I have waited to own since 2001 and all I can truly appreciate is this fact: Frank is dead, he is truly gone, and here we are having a last Christmas Eve family event at his house and he is dead.
I'm going to have to write them a very nice thank-you note for giving me the painting. I'm going to have to get someone to help me hang it in my living room, in a space I've held reserved just for that particular piece of art, in a space where I can admire it often and feel not only your presence but also his.
But now, I'm going to go to bed and sleep and let my tears again flow.
How bittersweet to finally receive this gift.

with much love always...

sea change

This evening I had a moment of clarity. While in a karaoke club with new friends, listening to an old friend sing a Matchbox 20 favorite, I realized that maybe I was healing. I was back in my own skin again, at least for the moment.
I was finally living again, rather than going through the motions. THAT was a welcome feeling!
As you are well aware, I've been more and more aware of having been sleepwalking through the last decade. Part of it was due to Mama's death, no lie. But then having a part of me turned off became an addictive habit. I was definitely unwell.
The divorce was a shock to my system, jolting me back into this world. I wasn't quite awake yet, but I was starting to find signs of life and I reacted by bringing color into my environment, stripping wallpaper borders and painting Sunwashed Blue and Aged Mint and Valencia Violet, with some Jasmine Time. When I returned home in the evenings, the off-white walls were covered over with Maize Gold and Lifevest Orange, trimmed out with Surfboard Yellow. Warm, vibrant re-entry accompanied by cool ocean hues and a throwback to my childhood haven.
After four years of daily contact with my new colors of home, I seem to be me again.
After four years of immersing myself into different cultural experiences, absorbing knowledge in the form of film, theatre, music, art, I seem to be me again.
After four years of loss of old friends and gain of new companions, I seem to be me again.
What a long, strange trip it's been! I know it isn't over, not by a long shot, but at least I'm awake to enjoy the scenery.

morning paean

I woke up thinking about e.e. cummings this morning. One of his poems has been a mantra of mine for years and it occurred to me that I should try to write my own version of i thank You God. Within seconds, I had this paean of praise in my mind and on my lips, then had to jump out of bed to write it before it evaporated back into the thin air from whence it came.

i thank You God
for the sigh of the wind through the rustling trees
for the rush to the beach of the surging sea
for the warm kiss of the magnificent sun
and for knowing always You as the One
amen

december blues

I think I may begin shaking off these December blues now. This month was always the property of Mama, as it contained both her birthday AND her favorite holiday. Well, I've been in a funk since Thanksgiving, which was my stepdad's favorite holiday. Yesterday, Mama would have been 74 and I was pretty much useless all day long.
Last night, though, I went to dinner with a new friend and she and I had a wonderful time listening to a talented string-playing friend while dining downtown. Then we headed over to the American Legion for Christmas Karaoke - GREAT fun!! Two more girlfriends joined us, with one of them singing Three Dog Night's "Joy To The World" and the other getting behind the microphone for the first time EVER! Strut, you Stray Cat! She was good, too! We even all got up and did the "Chicken Dance" when everyone else did. I'm tellin' ya, you really should have been there!
Today, to continue the positive note, in the early afternoon I saw a film which was John Turturro's love letter to Naples, Italy. It's a toe-tapping, theatrical, musical paean to the beauty of those living on the Mediterranean coast and in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius. I am seriously considering owning the soundtrack!
Afterward, I came home to prepare for the Christmas party at the church. As I had worn my sparkly red shirt last night, I donned a glistening white top and added a red-beaded necklace and I was set! Me and my red rice arrived in fine time at Asbury Memorial, allowing me to visit with folks I don't get to spend enough time with these days. (Note to self: change that!) We all ate as much as we could stand, then a bit more, talking and laughing. After Santa and Mrs. Claus had come and gone, I did the same, realizing that I could make the 8 PM showing of "Passione" if I hustled... so I did!
To sweeten the deal, several of my friends were at this later showing of the film. Nice! And, as a bonus, one of the backers of the film was a new Italian retaurant and the owner had generously supplied fresh canoli for ALL! What a sweet treat! The film, this second time, was even better. Maybe good times are better when shared...