THOUGHTS: September Mourning #2

There are so many things that unconsciously affect me and are affected by mother's passing. I have, in the past years, given up driving completely during her passing over week. I used to find myself driving west on the highway and snapping back to reality wondering, "What am I doing? My mom is dead." Now I take every precaution not to schedule anything too heavy or mentally taxing during that time...

As fates would allow it, during my grieving week, I also had a long desired artist’s professional development session at The Royal Conservatory Of Music (recently renovated by my partner Stephen, who attended the opening concert that I couldn't share with him as I was working, “pout!”). When one is earning ones bread and butter as a freelance artist and instructor, ones personal development is all about doing and learning everything possible to do a job well done. I had my fingers crossed with Learning Through The Arts (LTTA) an organization that assists artists in the marrying of their art to the Ontario educational curriculum. This is a naturally necessary component to the variety of work that I do.

So don’t you know I missed the session! I was a day late, having got my wires crossed in technology as this LTTA group has their own e-mail system, and information came over indicating that our sessions had been moved a day! Finding out it had been my mistake I walked back to my studio dejected, and a little angry at myself for messing up this possible good thing; I had been trying so hard to stay on top of things, taking every precaution possible not to let the grief overrun my week.... Anyway, I wrote an honest letter to the folks at LTTA, while trying not to make excuses for anything, and after offering their condolence over my loss, they let me know that there was another session that I was welcomed to attend. Great, eh!

In mourning the anniversary of my mother's passing, I have come to the realization that even in the midst of grief I am capable of learning something. My mother was a great teacher of life lessons, so it seemed appropriate that I should learn to speak up for myself with the honesty and dignity that she taught me. Things with LTTA could have gone differently. I could have missed the scheduled workshops completely, and I would have been disappointed, but still I would have learned a lesson in taking chances and speaking up for myself. You would think that as an artist this is something I would be able to do with ease, since I perform and instruct for audiences, but like many artists, I have been made vulnerable by the constancy of occupational rejection. My mother knew that lessons could be learned at any time. Maybe her spirit was reminding me...

THOUGHTS: September Mourning #1

Wow, what a month! So many things going on…My mother passed on this time of year and everything I do is coloured by her loss. If you work in an office you can get away with closing your door, burying your nose in your computer, and cry in the bathroom if you have to, right? Well, as an artist, my work demands that I am "on" when I work. I can't cry while I am performing, especially when I do work for the little ones, or for members of the human community that have strayed, by choice or by life, to the margins. Still, I'm no different from anyone else when it comes to family.

In the midst of my grieving week, my brother came into town from The 'Peg, bringing his partner, whom I did not have a good initial meeting as we met on the occasion of my mother passing, and let us just say that she and I had different viewpoints on social etiquette. Well, my brother walks into my studio and the hugs and kisses ensued. Feeling a little captured into this forced affection circle I accepted and even returned the hugs. Not a word was spoken of the past. Some of you can relate to my non-Brady Bunch family, can't you? Oh, yeah, I can see you nodding as you read this.

Anyway, I go out to the breakfast with them and I share some fun, jovial communication with my brother, asking him, "how is yuh fadda?" Any one familiar with our clan wouldn’t find that it strange for me to ask him how his father is doing. To my brother and I this was indeed an inside joke that had nothing to do with the current fact of our recent familial estrangement. No, our privately shared humour had to do with our life as children. Our Daddy was always away, being one of the many merchant marine-ing Dad's all over the Caribbean. When he did come home my brother would hide under my Granny's bed complaining," Why does that man always come here? Every time he does, he sleeps in mommy bed!" I recall having to tell him, "Boy, dat is yuh fadda" Hence, our inside joke.

As my brother's earthstrong (birthday) was days away, I decided to be my authentic self, maintaining the sense of honour and dignity my mother taught me, and welcomed his choice of partner. I chose to share gifts and a card with he and his wife. The note said simply "Thank-you. This is heartfelt, as I still do not know you, but I do know my brother, and as long as you continue to share loving goodness with him you will always have my heart." They returned to Winnipeg the next day. I spoke to my sibling on his birthday morning. He told me of how much my gift of time for them was appreciated but made no mention of the card...

Only the fates know what good possibilities life has to offer. My policy these days is: leave a loving open door. I have no wish to have old stuff with the folks I claim to love cluttering up my horizons. I know I don't walk this path alone. Those of you who nodded in familiarity when you began reading this post also journey with me. And those of you who understand the complexity of family relationships are on that voyage too. I may be an artist and you a stay-at-home mom, business person, or health care specialist etc. Whatever the case may be, darlin' we is all human together:-)