Asleep,,, ​Or Awake

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AT some point

I slipped out of bed

I can still see where my body laid

soft pillows of down 

each holding an imprint of my head

different moments of time

the duvet has adopted a body shape

am I still… 

lying in my bed

or ….am I dreaming

dreaming of being awake

IF we could see time

would our world be full of remanence of where we were

if,

 

 

may 3 2018

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Many Changes

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Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Its been a while since I wrote. I really should have written last week for I was pretty happy then. Some happiness still lingers and I do try to hold on to it’s tail with a good grip.
Another move is upon me. With each one I believe it gets better and more toward where I am meant to be. This answer I do not know, incase you were waiting for one.

I have had a great invite to live in the country with a studio one hundred paces away. Not unlike my own home at the other end of the city, but that is not where I am going. I was and still am very happy with the thought that I will have my own larger space and my own kitchen and a place to paint more freely. The sun shines in that kitchen first thing in the morning! My fantasy is to look for thick blue wine glasses. I also thought I would save the left over blue bathroom tiles from our bathroom [B and my] and then when I find a suitable kitchen rectangular table I would glue the blue tiles to it! This way I will always start my days with memories of B and our breakfast times.

With every good thing there must come one that will grind at our hearts. I try to think and be positive, for I can hear the ‘ohhhhhhh nooooooooss’ from my friends silent thoughts. My real home will be vacated, this news was not delivered without warning, I knew that things were becoming more and more difficult for my tenants. This time with great effort on my part I was determined to be positive. Mostly because being sad and negative has just made me deeply and very despondent for days. I just can’t let myself do that anymore, it hurts too much!
I am looking at this as just having one more door open. I will sort out all of B’s things in the calm summer sun. I will have this as an opportunity to properly say good bye to my home, and my life that I had there. I do believe that it is meant to be. Being able to have it as my cottage for a while will be good for me and the family. I plan on letting them all know of its availability and that this summer will be the time to go stay there and have a proper good bye to their dad and granddad. You see how I am consciously deciding to look at the positive and not fall down the black hole of negative.
So that is that!

I am also currently preparing for a huge 80 piece art show. That is quite an undertaking. I know my body is reacting to the stress from it by pinching my neck or sharp pains in my back and sides. I just make sure that sleep is the thing that I do not restrict myself of. I know! Hehehe have I ever!

So my friends out there know that if you are in the beginnings of your grieving to not be so hard on yourself. Be as your body tells you to be. Follow your gut instinct. I know its hard and very frightening for we humans have not practiced this but it does get better and a life will emerge. Just enjoy the journey. Yes I did say enjoy, for even grief is a good thing. Grief just means your very sad for your loss and why should you not be. Everyone grieves differently. I think because I’m an artist that I am trained to dive into such emotions and pull out images or words. It only makes sense that my grieving will be a bit darker then normal I think anyway. Have yourself a day of happiness or sadness or sleep.

Its all good.

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What is a Memory?

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Memories, what are these things?
How do they work?
Are they the same for everyone?
I think that the act of the memory may be the same but if it’s activated differently then it would only make sense that remembering would be different for everyone.
I am an artist, as I have mentioned before. My particular obversion is detailed. The angle that a cup sits on a table. The way B’s hand nearly covered his glass when he held it. I can still see him sitting in his chair, one leg extremely extended out the other bent at the knee and foot slightly under his chair. One arm stretches across the cherrywood table while the other was bent back of the chair. B did not sit in a chair he possessed it.
I remember how it felt when I held him so tight in bed. I wanted to melt through his skin so I could be closer. So because of details, my mind is filled and the memories devour me. B had the most beautiful ears, and the curve of his chin and how his beard felt to the touch. His lips would almost melt when he kissed with love.
For myself, I don’t think anniversary days make that much of a difference but seeing his monumental sculptures does. We got together when he painted the 40′ mural in a hospital. Marble sculptures were our trip to Yugoslavia etc.

My trip to Newfoundland was about creating new memories. Also trying to envision a continued life on my own. I’ll have to wait to see how that works out.  The ocean became my lover, my confidant. Is that why I want to go back?

The pressures of letting go are always with me.  I often pretend that I am further healed then I am. It just makes things easier, no explaining, no making excuses for sleeping long hours. I just feel that it takes time to let some memories fly off. Being together every day and working together for 32 years is going to take time.
This summer I will be starting to sort out our studio. Everything that my fingers touch will be loaded with memories. Mine and his. I don’t look forward to this summer. It will take me apart, but I know I have to do it. Possibly it will not be so difficult. Someone may offer to buy and that will give me the excitement needed.
If only memories left prints, then at least we could be warned of what to pick up and what to leave alone. I go till my stomach hurts or I feel light headed then I stop because what I don’t want to do is get rid of something because I’m tired.
Then again………why do i even.

Then again.

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Why is it wrong to not want a life without him.