From Ashes to Art Shows

Life is relative. We often define who we are in relations to other people. So what happens when that person (or place, or pet) is gone? Who are we? That was the biggest question in April of 2018. I became an orphan. I lost a child and a beloved pet. I was a single dad, hanging on as best I could for a 12-year-old, who already showed signs of becoming a teenager. I had trusted the wrong people. I made mistakes. A dear friend calls them “Killer Bees.” When I finally paid attention (i.e., when life slapped me across the...

While I didn’t put my conscious thought into the choices of symbols, the subconscious connection to each piece was deeply significant. Each one had STORIES to tell, not just a story. They needed to be with me on the mountaintop… and I needed to let them go. I carried them in my son’s backpack, along with some art supplies and a sandwich I picked up at a store at the beginning of the road that led to where I stood. I didn’t just take them out and toss them over. I paused a while with each one, embracing each memory…...

It wasn’t until my mother’s funeral that my cousins knew what had happened. I didn’t want to burden them with holding the lie. I let them think what they were going to think, rather than break their hearts around her. They didn’t understand why I couldn’t be with her during her final days until we were standing in the parking lot of a restaurant after the service. The realization brought shock, tears, and an understanding that forgave my previous indiscretion. This hit them with more loss, and more grieving. It was something I didn’t want to do but couldn’t hold...

Save, save, save, save, save…      19 times. Every few months, “press 9 to re-save”. While I did transfer the messages to a recorder for posterity, I still hold on to the voicemails left by my mother. They start out with a cheerful message of a visit she had with an old friend. The second one starts with “Happy Birthday” but then quickly goes, “I wish I had better news for you, but I just came back from the doctor. He mentioned the C-word.” I knew what she meant. The rest continues to chronicle her journey through endless doctor’s visits...

I agreed to take “Mini D” in because of the real possibility that it could become a Forever Thing. Extensive work done by the Dept of Children & Family Services (DCFS) and the Children's Court and my Magic 8 Ball all said, “Outlook Good.” We were within weeks of starting the paperwork for adoption when Life had other plans. “Better Not Tell You Now” … “Concentrate and Try Again”. Sparing you some of the dark details (for both the children’s sakes) the winds changed… the tone of the phone conversations with DCFS changed. I was just waiting for the other...