I have worked several years on this series that includes Matters Maternal. Oftentimes old photographs of our family and homes have worked their way into these paintings. Matters Maternal all started with two post-its my mother wrote in her last year. She was locked down on an Alzheimer’s floor called “the neighborhood”, with her room of personal belongings around her. But the written words on the post-its reflect her world of never feeling at home and the constant unfamiliar faces around her. As she slowly slipped into some other world, it was important to “not forget” to eat, to drink, and perhaps rub noses with someone she remembered for the moment. Small fish important: well we were a trout fishing family and she always out-did us all. Defending territory must have seemed her constant battle, because so many new faces continually invaded her space, as she did theirs. A favorite big, stuffed white bear was more welcoming than the other residents.
When we joined her ashes with our family mountain stream, they turned the crystal water a soft, warm grey. Yellow was her favorite color; the gerberas and daisies we floated caught on the emerald moss covered rocks. The post-it on the empty wooden box read, miss me, but let me go .This summer we then joined my Father’s ashes with the stream. Once again the crystal clear water turned a soft, warm grey, spiraling with native dogwood flowers among the stones.
We search in the silence of corners for lives lost and lives well-lived. We move forward with the lives of the newborn, who bring smiles to our faces and remind us of those who came before.