It's time to play a little catch – catch up, that is. Let's start with my art show.
What an amazing experience! It was exciting, rewarding, and a great success by any measurement: attendance (around 100 at each opening party), sales (four paintings sold at the openings alone), media coverage (local radio and four area publications), viewer response (applause – and tears – at the openings and many meaningful comments in my guest book, and financial support for ALS research (nearly $1000 donated overall).
Here are just a few highlights: a beautiful flower arrangement from my former co-workers at Sterling Vineyards; guests from all aspects of my life; gallery owner Susan Fieler and her gracious hospitality; a huge front-page 5-photo article in the Lake County Times Star; a lovely conspiracy between my husband, a dear friend and friend's Honolulu son to bedeck me with fragrant leis, just like at my art shows in Hawaii; and above all, visits from two exceptionally special people – my forever friend, maid of honor and Kona art show picture-hanger-upper Cindy, out from New Hampshire; and daughter Kate, world's best traveling companion and subject of two paintings, here from New York.
How wonderful everything was – and how completely exhausting.
So for our next round of catch-up, let's look at my show's aftermath.
For weeks before the show, I was carried high on a wave of anticipation. At the opening parties, I was buoyed by adrenaline and the support of friends. During Cindy's and Kate's visits, I was strengthened by stories, memories and love. Then… I crashed.
I slept for days, and woke to find that ALS had crept up on me with a vengeance. My arms and legs lost what little strength they had. I could barely hold my head erect. I had trouble eating, trouble speaking. I couldn't use my computer because my voice-recognition program no longer recognized me. The excitement that had carried me along disappeared, dumping me down, down, down into depression.
It was only with a lot of rest, a lot of help, a lot of support, a lot of love, a little chemistry and a visit from John the IT genius that I began to find an upward path – and then came new pain.
Next we have loss.
In late April my mother passed away. She had been very ill for years and going sharply downhill for months, so her passing was not unexpected – but it was a shock nonetheless. Your head can be prepared for such a thing, but your heart? Never.
We are reassured by the long, full, adventurous life she had led. She was an engineer for an aircraft company during World War II. She married a young Army Air Corps lieutenant after a whirlwind courtship; their marriage lasted more than 60 years until his death. They traveled all over the world, for both business and pleasure, and they lived in such exotic spots as Singapore and Hong Kong. She rode an elephant in Thailand and a camel in Egypt, saw Macchu Picchu and Kilimanjaro, help curate an exhibit for this Smithsonian and volunteered at an archaeological dig in Jordan. She gave me this as an irony-filled legacy: a brilliant student, she started college at 16 majoring in pre-med, but after her sophomore year she decided being a doctor was not an appropriate career for a woman so she changed her major… and became an aeronautical engineer instead.
She was my Mommy. Always is.
So we have now caught up on three recent phases of my life, the good, the bad and the sad. Let's check out what happening now. And let's call it the way up.
I can feel myself getting better – not physically, that's never going to happen, but emotionally and spiritually I think I'm getting stronger. I am dealing with my mother's death. Although my psyche is still not strong enough to counteract the physical weakness of ALS, I see – and feel – signs of light. I feel support and love. I know I still have a lot of life to live and the will to do it. I will get past this I will. I will.
I have been tackled, but I am not down. I will get up and I will run.
