Lately I've noticed I don't multi-task like I used to. To much just confuses me. Then I shut down and call it a day.
If I call it a day without having one, not only do I loose ground, but I now have an amount of regret
or "noise" in my head for the next day.
I need to concentrate when I work, paint, draw, carve and doodle.
So what do I do? Well I'm down sizing quite a bit. I'm selling the house, and moving closer to my studio.
After 6+ years of cancer, my wife died last August. I was her care giver, and did all I could to maintain our home and welfare. It became exhausting.
There were many times I felt helpless and unable to accomplish most tasks. Personally, I failed miserably on a regular basis. Or so I felt. I had high expectations that I could not meet. I was over my head, but wanted to save my wife and her health.
So I blindly continued to do what I could. Hoping things would get better.
Three weeks before Renee, my wife died, I thought there was still hope. She was "cancer free" several times during those 6+ years. So I wanted to think she still had a chance to beat this condition.
In the end I had to bring her into the hospital her last week. I no longer could care for her, the way she needed to be cared for. I could see her loosing ground each day.
She had her 55th birthday in the hospital. It was acually her last cognative day. She rapidly began to shut down.
I was called 3:30 in the morning to come into the hospital. Renee was asking for me.
I arrived shortly after they called. Renee was uncomfotable.
Several hours later she went into a coma. I notified our kids and they came to the hospital.
Although she wasn't talking, she would twich her toes,or eyebrows to let use know she could hear use.
We all said what we wanted to say to her.
Renee died that evening before the sunset.( 7:40pm. 8-7-10 ) I think she was hanging on for us. She loved us all very much. We all loved her very much.
When she died, she looked truly at peace. All the painful expressions left and she looked more beautiful than the day I met her.
It's been almost a year. I try to move forward. Everything is difficult and strange to me. Things that were important no longer matter. Yet I know I must do something. I'm stuck, or can't let go.
At times I look to find meaning in all of this, and I see a magnet on the fridge that says," Live well, Love much, Laugh often"
To me, that was Renee's code she lived by. This will not be so easy for me.
Tortoise .Weathered black walnut chainsawed. (approx.200 lbs.)
