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A Gift

If you are someone who regularly reads my rants and random thoughts I am going to ask you to be patient with me this month. As I explained in last night’s blog, July is the month that I lost my Mother, on July twenty-second to be exact, it will be six years this year and I keep wondering when it will get easier. I promise not to make this an entire month of mourning, I hadn’t planned on writing about it tonight, it is after all a holiday and I should be celebrating. The reason I chose to bring it up again is because of tonight’s project. I was having a very frustrating day artistically. I promised to post on this blog warts and all. Unfortunately earlier today I couldn’t draw a wart if I tried. I was off my game, nothing was speaking to me. I went on a hunt for inspiration and came across a photo of my Mom. It is one of my favorites. It is from my sister’s wedding, which means Mom is forty-five in the photo. I think she looks beautiful. I decided to make her portrait my project tonight. A pencil portrait. I will be revisiting it in the morning, it isn’t entirely finished, but I am for tonight. I can see more than a few areas I want to work on. I was drawing in the garden, the last hour and a half after the sun had gone down. To say lighting became an issue is an understatement. I didn’t come in because it was much too beautiful sitting out there.

As I was sitting there drawing my Mom’s portrait a thought passed through my head. It was that I was bringing her back to life. I don’t know what prompted the thought, but I do know as soon as I had it was struck by another thought, that I couldn’t bring her back. I felt such a rush of sadness that it brought tears to my eyes. I continued to sketch, but by then the tears were rolling down my face. I was in danger of getting the drawing wet. Dan, ever thoughtful, jumped up and grabbed some tissue for me. My Mom complained to me once that the four of us girls were always doing special things for our Dad, but not for her. I don’t believe that was entirely true, but I do know she raised us to treat him like a king. We were like four little handmaidens.  I can only hope that somehow she knows I’m doing something for her today. I guess in a way I am bringing her back to life by putting her portrait on my blog, a final gift for both of us, because it really is a gift to have the ability to see my Mother’s face drawn by my own hand. By the way, her name was Mary.



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