At the end of 2015, I lost my best friend and wife, B.J. to
the mysteries of death. I had taken a year off from my painting and writing as
her caregiver, and in my grief I had no intentions or ideas for studio work,
especially after a fall down steps from my studio in December just before B.J’s
memorial service. The New Year began with crushing pain in my right hip, and a
cane to walk. In March, I had my first adult visit to a hospital for surgery to
correct an artery blockage. My dear friends came to my rescue, which gave their
abundant love and nursing skills. One precious friend drove hours to help, sprung
me from the hospital and stayed overnight to help. I healed quickly but the hip
discomfort remained until I could not walk or move without extreme pain. July
began back in the surgery theatre for a titanium hip replacement. As summer
heated, I was inside in bed with a walker to move, and finally back to cane. Again, there were many friends who gave and gave to assist in my healing. As
the shadows of August became longer, so did my grief, and sadness on being a
cripple, and discovering so much about the difficulties the handicapped must
deal with daily. What was needed was a sojourn by the ocean to relax and get
away from the house and town with my children.
Once again, a dear friend gave me her fabulous island home
for ten days, and I promised to gift her a painting in return. It took a few
days of porch sitting to relax as my surgeon had warned against going into the
ocean and beach walking. My watercolor paints came out and I started doing
small studies of the ocean and clouds, used my camera to capture moods of each day, and my worries and grief began to slide
away. My daughter and her boyfriend took complete care and charge of me, and I didn't drive, lifted luggage, never cooked, and my only work was shaving. Reading,
painting and eating seafood daily was healing and by the time I was back home,
I was ready to paint in the studio.
My friend who gave me her house for a week wanted a picture
for her new mountain home and had a foyer space selected. I ordered a 40” x 48”
canvas and started with tentative drawing but got distracted by doing small
studies on canvas in oil of the beach; and the storms I had witnessed on her
grand beach porch. As autumn slowly arrived, my cane was only needed for long
stand up events, and in November walking was normal for the first time in a
year. The large painting was hard work, and I was working from a photograph of Grandfather
Mountain and lake, and the painting went through much iteration before completion. I began to hate the picture and the painting,
until my nine-year old grandson wisely told me to toss the photograph and make
the painting my own. Such a gift, and photo was tossed. As the anniversary of B.J.’s death came,
I was feeling lost, angry, and sad, but again, a precious friend gifted me with
advice that I should love myself for having the ability to do such a painting.
The gifts of good advice gave me the boost I needed to finish the mountain
painting, and to give it to my friend for her home will bring me great joy. I
am happy with this work and that I am painting and living again. As the year
comes to a close, I am so grateful to all my friends who gave their love, nursing, ears for listening, shoulders for leaning, and tissues for my tears. It’s
the season for gifting, but every month and every day is an opportunity to give
and to love. The seasons of giving are year long.
