Dad stopped painting a number of years ago because of failing eyesight. Prior to that he painted regularly after his retirement. Painting brought him joy, but an even greater joy when he was painting for others. For a number of years he created Halloween paintings for our children. I found these tucked away in the attic and closest--things get misplaced, or forgotten for various reasons, but this All Hallows' Eve, they're being displayed around the house.
His work has an even greater significance now then when he first painted them and are even more endearing since he's unable to paint. In the first painting, it's difficult to discern from the photo, are ghostly figures surrounding the abandoned house. In each of these paintings, he has placed himself alongside the grandchildren--hiding with them, observing what's before them, but most of all protecting them from the unknown. It appears at least in one of the paintings, they have no choice but to travel through the darkness, but he is with them--the narrative could continue to change.
Now more than ever, since converting to the faith 18 years ago, I find comfort and reassurance in the Communion of Saints. There's that fraternal charity we share with those who have gone before us, or are still among us. Relatives who have been called home are more vivid to me now than when they were alive. Something intensifies when you get older: perhaps it's the realization that love doesn't die, but continues to work its good even when family and friends aren't present in an earthly way.
Dad may say I'm reading too much into his work, but for me it represents the ongoing love and concern he has for his family. Prayers offered by the deceased or living, continue to guide, lift us up, and protect us.
I'll be dropping in at the church more frequently this month to offer prayers for all friends and family who are separated from us. Prayer binds us no matter where we are.
4 comments:
Bonnie -- these paintings are stunning! My favorite would be the first one. Your father has a wonderful talent, indeed. I see where you get yours from. At a reasonably early age -- upon the death of my grandfather, I began to feel that people who pass on are truly just in a different realm. I have lost both my parents and I don't feel like either of them are gone -- I just can't see them. I have had dreams of my father that I feel are visitation dreams which just makes my belief even deeper. Of course this belief comes from a deep faith in God the Father and Jesus the Son -- whosoever believeth in me shall not die but have everlasting life -- it's beautiful, isn't it?
Thank you Melissa! The first painting is my favorite one too. Dad was very humble about his abilities and saw himself as an amateur at best.
What a grace and source of comfort for you to know your family is there for you--just in a different realm as you said. It is a deep and abiding faith in the Trinity that gets us through any and all days :) The heart-given knowledge of eternal life is beautiful!
Absolutely! Without my faith I would be totally sunk. I was rereading your post and what you said about your father being modest about his work. My father, also an artist, was the same -- humility is a good thing, I think.
I hope you put your father's work on your blog sometime, Melissa--it would be nice to see his art. Humility is a beautiful virtue--our father's must have been cut from the same cloth :)
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