It’s hard to say whether it’s being back in the city, where his absence is more strikingly felt, the newer medications I’m on, or greatly decreasing the painkillers I’ve been taking, but things have been incredibly difficult lately.
I suppose grief isn’t something that can be quantified or predicted.
I feel as though I’m breaking.
My first attempt at watercolor since childhood. Mom bought us matching tiny travel sets with a brush that holds its own water. I feel like I’ll be taking it everywhere.
From the series Cubes for Albers and LeWitt © Jessica Eaton
the pressure of your fingertips
travelling tendrils
surely you are writing yourself
into my spine
when i am old and bent
there you will be, still
clinging along the seams
Do you see the slight difference in the angle of my wrist in the second picture?
I couldn’t lift it at all a few days ago! I had it level earlier today, but I guess I’ve worn it out, and this is the best I can do right now.
I’m still in pretty intense pain. Nerves are strange things. But now that I’m actually seeing improvement, I’ve got some hope.
No. Not anon. Sorry. If you must know go to my blog and read the last several posts. I explained there.
angry that such a brilliant and inspiring person was stolen from this world and from my life.
angry that I was happy and he was happy, WE were happy and it was abruptly brought to a terrible end.
angry that I have been in constant pain since then.
angry that I can’t shower without help, that I can’t play my guitar while I sing and scream out all these horrible feelings, angry that I can’t work, angry that I may never again have full use of my hand.
angry that I can’t even give real hugs.
angry that I will forever carry three giant scars to remind me.
most of the time I can be grateful for the time we had and for all he was and for all we shared.
but last night. today. I am angry.
that because two people had no respect for life, that because two people felt entitled and had an semi-automatic handgun and a meth addiction my life and the lives of my friends and his friends and his family have been forever changed in a horrifying, tragic, senseless way.
there is no suitable word to encompass this level of anger and grief.
Red on White. Photo by emyan
These prints and more are available now at my Etsy shop. Click here to nab one!
