I have been hearing a lot lately that every obstacle comes with a chance to come back. That every loss has a gift. That in the darkest moments, you can see the stars. Now, call me crazy, but since Winnie died I felt deserving of some gift. And have been looking for them in the most hidden places. Around corners, behind closed doors, all the while never leaving my desire for another baby behind.
And then I got pregnant. I found out on the exact same day I had with Winnie. Exactly one year later. The signs were knocking on my door; this was it, this was our gift, our chance to be a family again. Our hope. Our star.
And then she died.
I realize that not every loss comes with a physical gift. Some loss presents you with strength (I am not quite there yet). Some loss gives you presence and an appreciation with what you have without needing to gain anything else. (Not quite there either). My hope is that I will be able to accept this in time.
Now, I have been fortunate in the past two weeks since we lost this baby to have been able to fill my emptiness with art. An upcoming show and a full blown need to create has kept me busy. Engaged. And a little at peace.
In graduate school we talked about semiotics, the philosophies of Heidegger and Bachelard, and the contemporary discourse of blah-blah-blah. We were told to leave emotion with the Expressionists. Emotion is for sissies, for fake artists. Artists have a moral and ethical responsibility to create work that investigates, questions, and puts into effect a stressing issue that mankind is facing. Concept should be at the base of all art. And I whole heartedly agree. However, I think these things come full circle. While my work may be about environmental issues on a broader level, on a deeper level it is about emotions. It is about loss of control and the natural forces that override us. It is about mindfulness. It is about hope. And maybe within the creation of these works I will find that star and I will be able to share it with others.