Wednesday, December 21, 2011

New painting


"Too soon/Mort laisse un chagrin d'amour que personne ne peut guérir, l'amour laisse un souvenir personne ne peut voler"
by Hilary J. England, 2011
Oil on canvas, 24" x 26" x 2"
This was a hard painting to paint.  After the procession of deaths I have experienced over the last several years, I felt moved to chronicle the absolutely abyssmal pain that follows these experiences, and how we flounder and feebly attempt to process the enormity of the losses. 

For several months, I was languishing in a sort of limbo--my mind refused to move forward, but it also refused to look back.  It stubbornly resisted all thoughts of anything painful, as you would attempt to fight off a mugger.  I felt this apprehensive, breathless sort of waiting...as if something more was going to happen.  And, sometimes it did.

After several funerals this year, several last year, etc., and etc., I was a bit on edge, and just plain sick and tired of people I know and care about kicking the bucket...not very eloquent, but there it is. 

I am thankful at this year's end for all I have, and all that were given to me, for the people, places and gifts that make me appreciate life.  I mourn those who have departed this life before their time, or even, if it was their time, it's never good time for those who are left behind. 

In three days time, Christmas Eve,  Nicole will have left us a year ago.  Casey is gone a year as of December 15th, Dan died on President's day, Matt on Memorial day.  Several more have gone on since the beginning of this year, such as Lori at Thanksgiving time, even Larry who went at St. Patrick's day...we have all the holidays covered, not to be sick or sarcastic...and although I'm well aware that death is part of life, it seems once you open the floodgates, it's a never ending trickle. 

I remember 14 years ago when my Grandmother died, and it was the most enormous loss I had suffered to that point in my life.  Here I was a women in her mid-twenties, and I had been lucky enough to not have been touched by death in a major way until that point.  I knew in my heart of hearts Pandora's box had been opened with her death, and we had several more, back to back, all in a succession.  It seemed to grow quiet for several years, and then, again, all at once. 

So, this painting is my way of trying to work out the enormous love that is carried away with the departing souls, and the enormous hole that is left behind in the hearts of those who love them.

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