I've been coming to the end of one of my journals for quite some time now and honestly haven't pushed myself to get to the end. There's been a lot on my mind and not enough space to process it... I've had the time, but not the space.
I believe in taking a step back and away to get the full scope of what's happening in this life. Being back in New York will hopefully provide both the space and the energy to assess what's happened.
It's personal, ya know? To see your family shuffle through pain at such a fast pace. To watch the unraveling of past, present, and future thoughts while seeing my father suffer. There is nothing that can prepare you for that.
It isn't about me. It never is. But this is the only lens through which I have to share information... So here goes nothing.
I had this very peaceful realization that my father's health was going to change everything... I have journals from way back that clearly stated, "my father is going to outlive us all". He's always been the healthiest man I know.
I saw all of that come crashing down just weeks after his retirement and came to realize that my superhero, like me, was still very human.
I was in denial, unable to see how the kryptonite crept inside him. I couldn't believe that this might just be the first and last chance that I'd be able to spend quality time with him, and I found myself hoping to stall for just a little bit more..
Though he was sick, that may have been the greatest time I was able to spend with him. It was the first time he'd sat still for once, and for that I was grateful.
We talked about hopes, dreams, and aspirations. I was able to care for him. It was a beautiful moment that we shared together, though still, very personal and difficult to process.
For the first time ever, my family had to face what it may have been like to lose the man that had done so much to hold our household together. There are things only he can do, questions that only he can answer, wounds that with only his time can be healed, and we've hesitated for so long to make those things happen. Suddenly we're pushed into over drive and you can feel a room full of concern and panic at every corner.
I tried to stay strong for the family, but honestly, it was exhausting.
Don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful for the growth that has come from this experience. I was able to watch my family grow and come together as a much stronger unit. I watched as people processed and released pains that I felt were dividing us, and watched as we all stepped into a brand new and beautiful chapter as a family.
Even through all of that, I can't say that there weren't growing pains along the way... The growth we experienced was phenomenal but you could still feel the weight of a past that finally had the freedom to be released.
Lately, I've seen this quote floating around. It reads, "being an artist means forever healing your own wounds and at the same time endlessly exposing them". As much as I believe that statement to be true, I felt it was time for me to selfishly hoard my growing pains for myself. It's a decision I'm incredibly proud of. As an artist sometimes, we're so used to our business being on display, we often don't take the time to allow ourselves to deal with it before setting it free.
This time was different. Like I said, it's personal. And some thing are better off fully processed.