Thinking of my mom this morning while walking down our pretty tree lined road . I think of her infrequently; we had a complicated and not always warm or affectionate relationship . She passed away two years ago after so many complications with her health. I recalled that she lost her vision gradually -but disappearing in earnest by the age I am now , 67. I was so accustomed to her low moods /anger in that time that I did not pay deep attention to her pain and loss in later years . I was also preoccupied with being a new working mother myself. I supported her in the only way she would permit -by listening.
Losing her independence with driving, her ability to shop for groceries and travel on her own . Her love of reading. Her world became smaller and as her body betrayed her bit by bit to include mobility also . Gradually she reclaimed some of herself -the cardinals she fed on her back porch ..soothing classical music in the sunshine , the audiobooks she sped through from the library and a widows group she attended where she grew to appreciate the company of other women. (I confess to nudging her a little to try the group and audiobooks-a small yet large success!)
During her very last days of life on this earth she reminisced a lot , and seemed genuinely happy to see me ..and grateful for my presence. Her features although altered by her dying self also relaxed more and for a small time her old sense of humour and self surfaced . One visit she donned a hat with fake braids to try to make me laugh. Affection returned briefly . Enough for me to latch on to it as a parting memory.
I feel a softening in myself . Walking along the road with my hound dog sniffing everywhere ,the light filtering through the trees and some songbird drama in the treetops I focus on the sensory delight of it all.
I think about all she missed and that I am able to experience my natural surroundings fully (even as I curse the persistent mosquitoes and hovering wasps.) I can finally feel her losses in a more personal way and understand why she couldn’t delight in her life as I have been fortunate to .
Gratitude is such a big and often overused word ..
Yet I do feel a deep gratitude for the gift of my health and my abilities ,my loved ones -and my vision of the world around me . Which has become more accepting and tuned in to the little details.. The preoccupation with surface appearances and needs of my former years seems replaced by an authenticity not felt before.
I can appreciate my artist self without being seen through the lens of others. I have formulated my own likes and desires and values. I can immerse my sensory side in the natural world and beyond.
I have time each day to make art-whether I decide to or not!
My success and lack of is my own to claim. My walk is a different one .
With knowledge and the gift of this time I am grateful. The details are important .
I know it’s September because of the pinkening
hydrangea bush in our yard..
My small yet tasty harvest of tomatoes ,one gigantic squash, some kale and red swiss chard
Winston and apples
Oh and salamanders … Also marking this season are the little red salamanders I have been rescuing from the gravel road.. and gently placing in the wet grass ..
What are you grateful for on these fine days ?
Do you find these feelings intertwining with your art making?
Cheers, Heather
My art is writing. But I try to break away from my desk just to look, and see, and appreciate the beauty around us that I often take for granted. Thank you for this.
How did I miss this post?! And yet, it is perfectly timed for this morning. :)
I love how you hold your mother with gentleness. Growing old and wise - and with relative good health - is such a gift, isn't it? Last night, at book club we talked about Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer. And of course salamanders were part of our conversation! The joy in experiencing the natural world is something that you share with the author and has always inspired me. <3