There is that split second moment in the morning (or a long string of mornings) after you get bad news, that you have a moment of pure peace. That moment between restless dreams and remembering reality. It is such a strange space to try to articulate, but I think everyone has experienced it over and over. If only we could make it last just a bit longer to catch our breath and find some clarity.
This morning it happened again. The news that my sister’s cancer has returned hit me like a 2×4 to the heart. I can only imagine how she must crave that moment of peace each morning, or perhaps she no longer even gets that moment of pure peace- not even a split second. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to wake up each day as a mother, a 43 year old mother, with cancer. Stage 4 cancer. It isn’t something I can comprehend.
So many feelings, emotions, memories, swirl around in my heart and head. It is impossible to make sense of any of it. The helplessness is consuming.
One place I come close to finding that peace is walking into the boys room at night and watching the three of them sleeping. For a minute, while I soak up their beauty and essence I find it, but then my brain kicks in. The other is working a canvas. Transferring my anger, hopes, wishes, fears, love, concern, sadness to a composition of color. Most often, those colors become a sort of landscape, creating a place for me to return to; a place to stand when the ground feels like it has fallen away beneath me.
Today is a full day, in a good way. But perhaps tonight, when the boys are sleeping, I will sneak into my art room and try to find my footing. So that I can find a place to stand and send out love.
|Sky Lake, 40 x30 Acrylic on canvas. A peaceful place for me to stand.|