The past few weeks have been sad. A vibrant member of our marina community was dropped by cancer in a week. No one saw it coming, and no one was prepared for his passing. One weekend, he is fishing, laughing, teaching young kids how to fish, and the next week, he is fighting for his life.
Now his and his wife's boat sits covered. The marina community grieves. We miss him already. The funeral home was full of recent photos of he and his wife laughing, and their dog, Anchor, perched on the stern of their fishing boat.
Life events such as this teach us that we are not in control. We have this moment, and no guarantee that in an hour, we will still exist. It is in these moments that the mystery of life presents itself, the shadow side that makes us cry and mourn the loss of those we have come to love.
We learn to cherish those we have among us - our family, our friends, the people that take care of our needs, the person we meet on the street. We learn to hug harder, love more, and forgive more. We learn that without each other, we are nothing but a lone soul.
At the Mill where my studio is, we are having Art Jam, a weekend to celebrate the arts. My mom went with me, so I could take breaks from my studio, and for the company. She will never know how much it meant for me to have her with me today. All afternoon, people came to my door with stories - stories of adventures, of amazing experiences, of interesting endeavors, and human follies. I listened carefully. I laughed. I laughed until I cried. I asked questions. I thanked them for their stories. And in my heart, I was thanking the universe for sending me all these terrific people during a difficult time.
I sold a lot of art today - compared to what I normally sell! But the day was a great day, not because of the sales, but because of the people. Other humans that wanted to share their life with me, even if for only a little while.
Tomorrow will be better. Each day will unfold, and we will understand better what our friend's passing means. And we will all be better people for our loss.
Artfully yours,
Cathy
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