reflections.

{ mixed-media encaustic :: reflections on a life :: © jan avellana, 2012 }

the last time i visited my family it was pouring most of the time. the gardenia bush my dad planted out front was being reflected in the pool of rainwater that had collected below it. i took a photo of this mirror image—this reflection—and birthed a revamped encaustic piece i began a year ago at artfest. this mixed media encaustic work combines the image of the reflection of the gardenia plant my mother so loves...this simple image symbolizes my father. i now see reflections of him, like the plant in the water and the image is elusive, unreal in substance, a reflection of the actual thing. the text is a handwritten draft of a war story, a piece of vintage ephemera, a nod to the wounds my father is still carrying with him today.

i visited my father today. he was a mix of emotions and a bit sad, processing through the changes he is going through the best he can. i think the fact that he isn’t going home to live anymore is beginning to sink in...i tried to walk with him and allow him to give voice to his feelings of loss and sadness, but the truth is i talked a lot because it made me feel better. what he most needs right now is wide berth to sit with his feelings and be heard. tomorrow i’ll try again.

he said he misses my children (they are not allowed in the ward where he is). he asked me to drive by his hospital window when we left so that he could see them before we headed home. i said sure dad. i really thought he would forget that he asked to see the boys, thought he’d get lost in the fog again, but he didn't. when we drove by his window, he was there, waving at us as we drove by in the car. it nearly broke my heart to see him standing there in that window, saying hello and good-bye. i wanted to pile him in the car and drive off with him and make everything alright again, go back 50 years and have him be young and dapper and well again and i can’t, i can’t make it better dad, i can’t stop this demise for you any more than i can stop my own kids from growing up and away, stop the wrinkles from etching themselves onto my own face. this life is full of wonder-filled hello’s and slow and painful good-byes and all of the life lived in between.

afterwards, we took the kids to the beach. everything is always better at the water it seems. it was going to be just a sand day. i watched my children play and slowly, but surely make their way into the water although it was late in the day and too windy, too cold. something in me healed up as i watched them, so young, so alive, so present in their play and joy, and my heart felt full again.

it’s a mystery to me how we get through this life to the end, with our brains and hearts intact. i think it’s a matter of breaking open wide and getting sewn and duct taped along the way, the way my son’s bear-bear gets stitched and stitched up again and again. i suppose the breaking and the seams tearing open is only because of how much we love. the comfort i find these days is that we aren’t meant to be torn apart and separated from one another, that there is more waiting for us behind the veil and that our hearts were made to live eternally with the One who made us...

Comments

[Jacqueline]

Dearest sweet Jan, this is such a beautiful post and i could so relate to it as i wish the same for my papa. It made me teary reading this because deep inside i so wish i could take my papa back in years when he is younger and stronger.
I love that painting you created. It's so beautiful and meaningful. I feel so inspired that i do wanna create something similar too. :) Thanks so much lovely friend. Sending lots of love to you and your family! Happy sunday sweet friend and love to you and yours.

[Jaggedtouchstudio.wordpress.com]

Your story stirred up many emotions in me...beautiful, sad, and hopeful all at the same time. I was talking to my daughter last night of how we sometimes want to stop the train and slow things down so we don't have to say good bye to what is and has been. The inevitable coming changes both take a beautiful life away and give us the gift of a beautiful life to be. It is a juxtaposition that at times is hard to embrace but the sands of time give us few options.

I appreciate your beautiful way of sharing life with us! <3

[shelley]

So very beautifully said. We were not ultimately made for this world. My heart aches with you.

[amy v]

i love your heartfelt post...i'm new to your blog. (came here from pixel berry pie designs giveaway. your work is amazing. i look forward to reading more of your posts!

annae07 at aol dot com

[susan hartman]

Brought tears to my eyes. Sometimes I forget I am not alone. We all live with the same human condition, its happiness and sadness. Thank you for sharing.

[Marti Parks]

I really love your hand stamped jewelry.

[judy gardner]

so beautiful - thank you for sharing with us! God bless!

[Jan Messali]

What a beautiful post. Your jewelry is beautiful AND you are a talented writer. While reading, I felt as if I were sitting right next to you during your visit with your dad. I've been through similar issues with my parents and can tell you that your relationship with God, and having those wonderful boys of yours will get you through this.

[Jan Avellana]

dear jan,
thank you...for your words of encouragement and kindness. hugs.

[Jan Avellana]

dear jacquline,
i am too slow at replying. forgive me. thank you for this. i'm rooting for you and all of your new changes. hugs...