Here we go
At the end of 2012 when I am normally planning for the coming year with anticipation, something broke. My Dad died unexpectedly, and my creativity came to a screeching halt. I seemed unable to find a voice. I haven’t been able to find something to say for over 8 months now.
Today, while sitting in the doctor’s office hearing that I will need yet another surgery, I found my voice. While sitting there listening to the doctor explain that my body has turned against me once again, I realized how pissed off I am to be sick…again.
Not all art comes from anger, but it can be a fantastic catalyst. As I sat and marinated in my newest health debacle, I immediately began to feel guilty for being angry. Everyone’s body turns on them eventually…that’s how we die. I’m not alone.
I have generations of family whose bodies have abandoned them in the end. And I also have the pictures of them before they knew what was coming. My grandmother, pictured here at 36, had no idea that 63 years later her most common phrase would be, “Do I know you?”
Art is found in contrast. I found my voice again, and it really isn’t pretty.