It is coming up on the first anniversary of my father's death. I've been working on a collection of poems,
Pressed for Time: a Little Book of Grief. Creating this book was much like the stages of grief, as I went through shock, denial, negotiation, anger, and acceptance, not necessarily in that order, and some stages a few more times than others. Piecing together these ensembles was a part of my own healing, of feeling ripped apart and putting myself together, after not just the loss of my father but several other family members in the last few years..
I found it difficult to write after he passed, but little lines would float through my head, which I would then email to myself. This went on for about six months. Later I consolidated these, and chose Courier as the font, as it looks a little rough and raw, like my feelings. I printed them out on parchment paper, which I then shredded, line by line.
My stepson had gifted me a flower-press for my birthday. I began with the forget-me-nots and pansies that I had planted both at my father-in-law's gravesite as well as in my garden, along with other snippets from the various plants and bushes my father and I had planted together over the last three decades. Crocisimo, Euphorbia, English Roses as well as the Cecil Bruner, sprays of Salvia and ubiquitous fern.
During our stay in Carmel, I watercolored backgrounds in a sketchbook, simply free-flowing with the colors. I had been collecting rubber stamps for years, some of the rubber had decayed and certainly most of the inks had become dry and crusty, but they added an interesting layer.
Finally, I assembled the pieces over a few months. I used Modge Podge to secure the dried flowers, standing the book up so the pages wouldn't stick together as they dried. I took photos of each page, some you've seen the last few months here on my blog.
Mercury is going retrograde, and I have a feeling of tying up loose ends, completing projects, and really putting things at rest.
Blessed be.
