Good Days and Grief

I’m having a really good day. Exceptionally good. I haven’t felt like this in a long time kind of good. You know the expression “the straw that broke the camel’s back”? What is the inverse of that? When a ton of things combine together to make a giant bundle of wonderful, what do we call that? Sundae with the cherry on top? The big rock candy mountain? I don’t know. But so much of the last several days have been filled with good people and good things.

When Bryan was sick, my dear friend, A’ala, a former co-worker at Whitman, an artist, a mother, a weirdo, a spiritual guide, and a guru commissioned a piece of art–a big piece of art, the biggest painting I have done to date. She paid for the art supplies and gave me directions of color and elements that she’d really like but with a lot of latitude to intrepret as I might. She saw the pain in my eyes and my heart and knew I would need something beautiful and joyful to pour myself into. In the early days after Bryan passed, I put the canvas up and got started right away. Then his service, trips, tasks, gardening kind of got in the way of finishing. This past week I put the final touches on this painting. I understand the idea of a starving artist and it’s not because of not selling them, it’s forgetting to eat when in flow. Thank heavens for peanut butter, the wonder paste in emergencies.

I sent A’ala some photos and a video and she paid me the highest compliment I’ve ever received about my art: “I don’t know how you did this but you have captured my ideal soul and my dreams and everything I love and nature and abundance and all that is bright and good and thriving.” How do you breathe after words like that? *whoosh* Wow.

I enjoyed a special breakfast at Bacon&Eggs, got to see my favorite ginger, saw Mary’s mom out at her shop to navigate fabric swatches, and visited my favorite art gallery in town to hug and visit a friend. This evening, my favorite pizza-maker and his wife have invited me for dinner. It’s a good day. It’s possible to be on the wings of joy and sad and longing at the same time. It would be so much easier if we could pick an emotion like a crayon and just use that one until we’re done. But no, emotions and thoughts and memories combine like a symphony or stew–you’re welcome to choose your own metaphor.

I want so much to share all of these things with Bryan. He was enthusiastically supportive of me and always on my team. Here I am with this weird mix of wanting to dance and sing the blues, but instead, I’ll go water my flowers and smile at the bees.