The creative and spiritual journey of a (textile) recycler. . .

I have thought about starting a blog for a long time now. I just couldn’t seem to get started. I thought. . what would I say, what would I do and really . . . . . who would care.

Last year I had the great fortune to witness a ‘happening’. As a spouse at a reunion (I know, groan) I was both an observer and participant. This reunion was attended by some of the most creative and talented people on the face of the planet. Really, no exaggeration! But many were holding onto life long insecurities. They didn’t think they were talented enough and embarrassed to perform in front of each other for fear of . . who knows . . . finger pointing, whispers, laughter, ridicule of some sort for sure. Once it was revealed that many shared the same feelings, the healing began. And I was the lucky one. I got to witness it all and benefit as well.

So, the message is that we all think we are not good enough compared to someone else, but we are. Don’t let your fears and insecurities stop you. We can’t measure our own success by someone else’s talents.

This revelation and the kindness / support of strangers has propelled my creative journey to a place I had given up ever getting to. Tho I thought my creative juices were dried up forever, they have merely been reawakened. Many thanks to all involved in my process, including in-part . . Victoria B, Mrs. W., Charles Mc., Claudia H, Mary B, Cindy G, Sandy B, Traci B., Kat C, and my IAA family. So, thank you. I dedicate this blog to all of you!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Best funeral ever?

Who says 'I loved that funeral', or 'that was a fun funeral' or 'best funeral ever'? It's weird and creepy and crazy and, it seems disrespectful. But that's what I heard over and over again on Sunday afternoon after the funeral. Yes, my special guy passed away, quietly and peacefully in his sleep, with my husband and I at his side.

It was a tough road, watching him cry out in pain as he did so many days and nights. But through it all, he never lost his sense of humor. When nurses would talk to him, he look right at me and stick his tongue out, or when he couldn't talk, he wink at me. And when his nurses and caregivers would give him hugs and kisses, he said, 'wow'. The fun we had with the fart app I put on my phone just to amuse him was ridiculous. Even in an almost comatose state, he still smiled if I pushed the button. When he was in better shape, I had him push the buttons and we'd blame the noise on who ever was in the room. It was adolescent, I know. But geez did we ever get a lot of laughs out of it. I guess it's true, boys never grow up. This boy was well educated, creative, a visionary, well known and loved by many..... and at 88 years of age and wanting to die, and he still laughed at fake farts.

So, back to the funeral.... a brass band played some kickin' New Orleans style music at the beginning and end, with a rousing eulogy by his favorite pastor. This guy was great. I want him to speak at my funeral! He spoke from the heart about himself, the world and his friendship with the departed one. There were no tears at this funeral.... odd... but it was such a celebration of a wonderful man and his wonderful life, that I guess we forgot for a moment he was no longer on this earth.... but instead somewhere having a wonderful time reuniting with his wife, who passed one year earlier and missed so much.

Am I going to miss him? Yes, I am having withdrawals. We were together at some point every single day for months, and for the last 4 weeks, every day and evening. Who will I play the fart noises for now? Who will I take shopping? Who will I go for walks with? Who will I sit and rock in our favorite recliners with, while we watch tv or talk? I guess I have to go to Margarita Monday by myself this week... love you Pops... will miss you terribly....

Thank you for letting me share your last months so intimately. You thought enough of me to tell me your secrets, your fears, your memories, your wishes and best of all, the laughs. Though I have not done massive amounts of crying, my eyes burn from the inside out....

So once again, in the spirit of Ms. Artsyville Aimee's list making... here are a few things I can tell you about my father-in-law:

  • He was silly and mischievous . . .  right up to the end
  • I loved seeing the sparkle in his eye when I'd show up and he'd say 'WoW. Looks who's here'
  • He was fiercely disciplined... unless it came to ice cream and Dewars (scotch)
  • We laughed together till it hurt, every single day
  • Though he hob-nobbed with some of the most famous people in the world, he was very down-to-earth and humble
  • I loved it when he tried to use his age and authority to get his way, even when he knew it wouldn't fly
  • He was always excited to hear from former students, learn about their lives & proud of their successes 
  • He let his personality speak not his accomplishments
  • He hugged me, kissed me and told me that he loved me every day
  • He lived life to the fullest and chose just when and how to end it, and on his terms

The video below is the Motor City Street Band playing
'Oh When the Saints Come Marching in' at the end of the service.

He was a life long trumpet player. Still performed in two bands until this past July (when the photo above was taken). His trumpet has now been silenced.... but the wonderful memories of him and his music will live on in the hearts of all who knew him.

Thank you for letting me table my creativity while I went on this journey. Thanks too for going with me......

1 comment:

  1. You can play the fart app for me, I'll laugh. And I can play it back at you, without the app! Sorry for your loss, and glad to have you back.