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.
I knew what you wrote about… I experience that. My heart goes out to you. Gloria/Granny Gee
Your writing is so moving. For those of us who have lost our cherished sons and daughters, it is impossible to fit into the world anymore. It might look to others as if we are like them, but we are no longer whole and never will be again.