Sometimes a picture is all you need

There was an artist that lived in New London, NH, the town I grew up in. Like everyone else in my small town, skiing was what you did in the winter. My dad was a very accomplished skier. In his era, if you were on the ski team it was required that you participate in all the disciplines... down hill, cross country, and jumping. He love the sport so on the weekends that’s where you would find my family. I deeply loved my father but didn’t share his passion for the sport. At 8 years old you didn’t question, you just did. Apparently this artist was in the parking lot when we were unloading the skis. He captured me as I tried to finagle my skis that my father just handed to me. The skis were crossed in front of my body and the expression on my face was pure misery. I have a love/hate relationship with this picture. It’s a reminder of the importance of teaching your children. The passion my dad had for the sport was so strong that he neglected to show me how to handle my own equipment. Teaching takes patience. It requires put your needs aside. Like my father I am not a patient person. Because I know this I make an effort to correct the deficit. 

So lately I am not feeling so well. No surprise but even when you know every day will be a bit tougher it’s still hard to soldier on. Genevive wanted to make cinnamon and raisin brioche. I felt uninspired and lethargic. This is a temperamental bread. It requires a specific method. I sat in the kitchen while she worked on the bread. I couldn’t get my but off the chair. At no fault on her part, the bread failed. I was so disappointed in myself. Then I walked by where that picture hangs in our hallway, and it hit me. I failed to teach her and put my issues before hers. I have a limited window of time to share my love of bread baking. I have only months to share this passion and knowledge with my children ....with you. I admitted my failure as a parent/ teacher. We made it together the next day, and the loaves were beautiful.  

This painting was done with oil paint. I don’t have the original but a lithograph. I wonder who has the original? More important is why? What did this person see? It certainly doesn’t portray any joy. It’s a young girl that feels only frustration and embarrassment. I don’t fault my dad; I get it. The man ran his own company, had 3 kids, and tried to hang on to the things that brought him happiness. That face is a reminder that passion should be shared.... should be passed down. That only comes with teaching. It also reminds me that my life was more that strokes and cancer. I had a youth, I gave birth to too beautiful girls, I traveled, I took chances, I loved deeply, I tried to be kind, and hopefully I’m teaching you not to fear death.

In theory I should be dead in a month . I don’t feel it around the corner, but its making itself known.  The process of dying has be fairly kind to me. I have yet to need medical intervention. When I let it get to me there is a domino effect. Genevive takes on my suffering as if it were her own. I desperately want my family to be proud of how I handled my death. These are the last moments we have together.

When my best friend’s mother was dying she was struggling to accept the end to her life. We dragged out the shoe boxes of photos. A span of her life lay before her. She needed to remember she had a full life. That picture in our hallway is my reminder.

Occasionally I slip and fall back on old behaviors. Before starting the Good Loaf I had a 70’x 30’ garden. Ten years of neglect it became an enormous bed of weeds and a chronic eyesore for me. Last week Genevive and John took the time to till the soil, remove the weeds, and salvage whatever survived. I now had a platform. I became way too excited and started to plant shop. I began putting together a plan; a vision was forming that I couldn’t wait to put into action. My daughter wanted to see me happy, so she worked on preparing the garden for planting. She felt stressed and tired and pressured to give me this garden. I had to take a moment and remember what was important. I got frenzied over something that I wouldn’t be here to enjoy.  I had to let it go. I had my family and that was enough. I had the fact that they care enough to get rid of the eyesore. It was my 20 year old daughter who reminds me of what’s really important. Now who’s the teacher?

We are in the mists of a teachable moment. I will leave this earth at a time when you cant give a hug, you can’t gather with friends, you can’t have the big wedding, and sadly you can have a funeral for loved ones.  However, you can knit your family closer together. You can appreciate what you do have.... more time❤️