It is Saturday and I am exhausted. Your dad is out trimming bushes. You know it is his therapy to work in the yard.
The workshop went well. I had fifteen students. Some I have known for a while but most were new to me. Talented group and so very very receptive. I did not talk about you. In years past I would have. My extreme pride in you and your sister always made me want to share the anecdotes concerning our interactions together.
That in some ways made this workshop a test. I shy away from places where I will be in contact with new people for any length of time because the subject of family comes up and I am never sure what to share. There were times when people said things in passing that I decided to ignore or gloss over. I choose not to join in some conversation because I did not want it to lead where I did not want to go.
There were a few folks there that know me fairly well. They helped me to be comfortable and I really need to find a way to thank them adequately. They felt like a safety net. In the group of new people there were a couple that have now quickly become an “old” friend. That is good too. So in every way this workshop was profitable. For my students, I hope it made them want to go home and paint, for me, it has been another hurdle to cross.
On Wednesday coming home I felt an awful grief attack coming on. I had been so busy for a couple of days preparing for this physically and mentally that I finally broke down in the car going home. I felt such anger that you were not available for me to talk to. I felt angry that I had been so occupied and diverted from my grief and now it washed back over in such force. I yelled at you when I got home. The poor dogs cowered in the den. Finally Ebby approached me cautiously and climbed in to my lap. She is so good at being a comforter.
I wanted to break something.
I wanted to scream till I lost my voice.
I didn’t. I calmed down.
Yet every day I drove home and tears streamed down my face and I though about what I wanted to tell you about the day. I want so badly to talk with you.
This particular outlet is really inadequate. It is frustrating and feels so lopsided.
Am I just becoming too comfortable in my every day grief? When I am home by myself working in the studio I can let the thoughts come and go. Grief is here with me , stirred up in my day. Out there, in the busy world other people and things claim you and your attention. If you feel a twinge you push it back to think about later. Then when everything calms down it hits like a wave.
I enjoyed the workshop. I enjoyed the creative forces at work – the spirit of the effort. I think to most people there who knew me I appeared to be as I have always been. I think that is okay.
I think that you would expect that of me.
I am really tired. It is going to be one of those days. And since I have learned the hard way that there is no guarantee of a tomorrow, I will just take this one as it comes. I love and miss you. We all love and miss you.