More from the internet; July birth month symbols bring bravery and power, The July birth flower is the larkspur, representing lightness of spirit, while the July birthstone, the ruby, inspires motivation, encouraging you to step into action and seize the day! 

The Tusculum portrait, possibly the only surviving sculpture of Caesar made during his lifetime

I’ve never written about my dad’s death. It seems impossible to write about a universe that was so vast and complex and try to formulate it into concise beautiful little life long sentences. It’s also beyond my scope to properly articulate the emptiness and hole that is left from such a massive loss. Grief is unexplainable. Is it a compilation of feelings or is it a state of being? I don’t know how it is for you but for me it’s certainly confusion and sadness. So much love presents itself at once it’s almost impossible to breathe. It’s too quiet.

 

9 years ago today, July 24 at around 1pm - my dads’ consciousness and body transpired / transitioned / dispersed / seized to be him. I was laying with him on my parents bed. He was already unconscious but he was still breathing. My mom was in the shower, she had just called the hospice to come start administering the morphine. I held his hand and tried to draw him with my other. Kind of morbid I knew it then at the time, but I wanted to capture him before he left for good. He took the famous last breaths that we take and in an instant, he was gone. I can still feel his finger to my hands and can almost taste the cool soft texture of how thin his skin feels. But that’s it. Then he becomes only memory. And I hate the memories that follow, the one of his body being taken away in a body bag or the mild chaos of organizing what must be done next. The rest of the day I cant’ tell you what happened next. It’s completely blank in my brain. But later that night when I finally had my own time and space, alone for the first time in my life - without my dad alive in the world, I didn’t sleep. I painted and worked on a piece all night long. From start to finish I refused rest until I felt I had accomplished something he would be proud of. I don’t remember the physical act of painting this, I just remember releasing wholes of my soul onto this piece of wood like my life depended on it. It was the only thing I could find and control. I’ve no idea if this piece, let alone anything that comes out of me, is any good. But I’m getting older and I’m finally hearing Rick Rubin and I’m coming to understand that I’m not making these things for you, I don’t know that I’m even making them for me.

My father died today, 2015, mixed media on wood (I forget the size)

Unfortunately or not July also marks the first year anniversary of being pregnant and then not for the first time. Which I place in the sad category of my brain. BUT. It also marks the same first time that I opened myself up and took to writing /and sharing/ about my existence and experience. Fort that, I am proud - that I followed through with this expression for a year. I’ve never claimed to be a writer - poet sure ;) but I know I’m no ________ (fill in with any authors’ name). 

 

I've come to believe and understand this has been a personal project centered around my healing. I appreciate anyone who has taken the time to read my monthly hello. And I am so grateful for the time(s) you’ve ever checked back in with me and made me feel like I wasn’t a total loser for providing you with an unsolicited update on my life and feelings.

 

This whole living thing does not get easier, but I know it can be lighter. This July is almost over! And I for one have really enjoyed it. Happy anniversaries or not. I see now that it all marks a life well loved and well fucking lived. And I extend the utmost gratitude to the people in my life I get to share it with. 

💘