|From my art journal (2017)|
A month after my son turned 17, his father died. Even now, 14 months later it still feels surreal to write the word, died. I wondered then how my son would navigate through life without his father. Would he be okay? What would this loss do to him? How might it shape him? A friend told me that Rob and I had filled Devon with so much love that it would last him a life time. There was such comfort in that thought.
I have only recently realized that Rob also filled me with love, enough frankly, to last my lifetime. It was that strength that I tapped into during these last two years. A strength born from the love we made between us. Knowing with certainty that I have loved and been loved centers me.
Today love is more powerful than loss; more powerful than sorrow and doubt. Love finds expression and strength in the everyday acts that now comprise my life. Making dinner for my son. Taking a walk and listening to the birds chatter. Planting flowers. Finding joy in the spread of paint on a page. Writing daily. Working with children and teachers. Spending time with family and friends.
When sorrow comes and it will, when I am reminded of this loss, when I feel unbound and adrift, I want to remember that deep within is a well of love my husband gave to me every day for half of my life.
That well is overflowing.