Carol Larson - textile artist

As I continue to process my father’s recent death, my rehabilitation from two major surgeries in the past 13 months and my husband’s ongoing health issues which are requiring more of my attention I find myself in a quandary. So much grief…so little time.

I am a verbal and visual person. I problem solve by talking about  issues, breaking them down by writing or speaking to gain insight.  Once I process it I let it go…and move on to the next issue.

As much as I went to Facebook kicking and screaming it has been a bit of a godsend. It ‘s often been my overflow valve when I needed to just vent something.  Yet  I feel it is really unfair to my husband and his escalating health issues to throw him under the bus by venting online about his problems.  So how do I cope?

First I have returned to writing more. I sat down the other day to write a ‘few thoughts’ about my father’s death and my unresolved feelings regarding the shortening surgeries of nearly 50 years ago. Eight pages, single spaced later… it felt good and cleansing. Sure there is still more in there to come out but it was a great start.

And by opening the door to writing again I was reminded of my drafts on the  ‘book of humor.’   The night following the celebration of my father’s 80th birthday I had a surreal experience otherwise known as the chocolate decadence birthday cake overdose. I was wide awake and hyped at 2 am so I got out of bed and began to write. I drafted 15 chapters for a book on humor. They’ve remained as drafts on the external drive for eight years now.  It seems this  might be a good time to reopen the files and finish that project.  Although seriously can a book on humor ever be finished?!

So writing, continuing to work out to build the most functional body I have resided in and getting back into the studio where the colors are patiently waiting to embrace me once more will be my best medicine. Oh and chocolate…in small doses.

Today is July 1st and I am rapidly coming up on the date for my second knee replacement. I chose to have this surgery in July because  I will be 9 months out from the first replacement and sufficiently healed to start the process all over again. I do not relish this opportunity but have kept my focus on the end result and was reminded the other day no one anticipates surgery with  great joy!

Much as I approached the first replacement I’ve been in the studio wrapping up some projects and beginning a few small ones. I thought for sure I would get one more large piece done before I was rendered studio-disabled for while. That is until two weeks ago.

That was when we received word that my father’s health was rapidly declining.  He died this past week at the awesome age of 88 years. He had been afflicted with dementia for 7 years so in essence a part of him died some time ago.

Years ago after losing two of my closest friends to cancer I became a hospice bereavement volunteer where I became familiar with the cycles of grief. And while I believe I was prepared to lose my dad and am ‘handling’ that pretty well, I had forgotten about the first phase…shock!

I am in a brain fog.  I start to talk and cannot think of what I wanted to say. If I write it down I just stare at the paper. Nothing seems to compute. And yet I have verbal diarrhea where I can talk non-stop to anyone who has the patience to listen long enough.

Now I know I am not going to get one more piece made before surgery. I will be fortunate  if I get my work out to exhibits it is committed to and send images where they need to go let alone attend to details for the memorial which is 3 days before surgery. I will be lucky if  I get the design table cleaned up.

It is always a challenge for this  ‘human doing’ to slow down and give the body the time it needs to heal …both from surgery and from life that happened while I was making other plans.