*Honesty
Painting on Silk by Deborah Falls
Honesty
Day 8 — February 17
Deborah Falls’ art is inspired by nature. She paints beautiful botanicals on silk— vibrant flowers in purples, reds, and pinks, with accent leaves in every hue of green.
So I was genuinely perplexed when Elizabeth was drawn to a painting of a brown, curled leaf on an inky background. “I don’t really like it,” I said to her honestly.
And then we purchased it and hung it on the wall of our home.
I still don’t really like it, compared to art that draws me in and envelopes me in the colors and designs and beauty. But I wonder if Elizabeths love of this art was her way of welcoming into her life and our home the starkness of the struggles, the fears, the disappointments, the anxieties, and the questions. Because we had a lot of them. Yes, our love story was beautiful, but it was also deeply difficult; for twelve years Elizabeth’s ill health overshadowed all else.
“I don’t really like it” is what both Elizabeth and I would have said about those years of hospitalizations, and surgeries, and appointments, and procedures, and prescriptions.
But we had no choice but to find a place in our lives and in our love for that we didn’t like—and found even there profound moments of grace and gratitude: in the compassionate nurses and certified nurse assistants who so lovingly cared for Elizabeth, for medical miracles that extended her life, for the organ donor who gave hope for a renewed life in that selfless gift, for truly exceptional doctors and surgeons.
And so I can see new beauty in the artful representation of a dead leaf folded in upon itself as in a loving embrace—as though it is enveloping me. I share a song by Carrie Newcomer as a fitting soundtrack for this art and for our lives:
'Cause leaves don't drop they just let go,
And make a space for seeds to grow,
And every season brings a change,
A tree is what a seed contains,
To die and live is life's refrain.
Listen to the entire song:
Day 8: the art of love and loss
view all posts at kentmueller.com
February 10, 2020, was the day my wife, Elizabeth Izant, entered the hospital. She and I were on a hopeful journey following her heart transplant five months prior. On March 1, she entered hospice and died March 11. This series is not about her medical journey. This is about sharing stories and reflections about our life together. In our 29 years of marriage, we collected a piece of art or two each year, often in celebration of our marriage anniversary. Each day from February 10 to March 11, I will be sharing an image of that art. And a story.