So, oh, so much has happened since I last wrote here. I mean to come back more often, feed this with the stories that I have to tell now. I won't start from the end, which happened officially on March 7th, but from today. This is the e-mail I sent to the group I call 'Family'.
It happened last Sunday afternoon. I was driving home from
my private class, and a friend texted me about finding a rat in her house.
Amused, I told her she should watch 'Ratatouille'. I don't know if everybody
knows it, but Ratatouille is the Disney animation about a rat that likes to
cook. It is one of my all-time favorites. The story is great and full of
elegance and humor. And it is a sweet declaration of love to cooking, and
eating.
So I decided to look up the theme song for the film, a
delicate French song called Le Festin, to send to my dear friend with the rat problem.
I turned on Spotify, found the song and hit play. And that's where I found this
pool of desolation.
There seems to be
pools of desolation all around me. I sometimes walk into them knowingly, like
when I go somewhere John and I used to go to together. The supermarket, or the
drugstore around the corner. Or when I eat something he liked. Or when I sit on
the bed where he used to sit, looking out the window. These pools are large and
scary, but they are not too deep and I can wade to the other side. I have found
there are other pools, though. Like the one I walked in last Sunday. As the
song started playing I felt a twinge of pain, like I was about to remember
something devastatingly sad. And then, as the song progressed and escalated to
its beautiful and cheerful 'summit', my
heart felt very small and painful, and I started to cry. All this sadness
poured out and I had no control over it. I was in a pool, and drowning.
So I parked the car and just sat there, feeling overwhelmed
and lonely. I cried because of John, because I miss him so terribly, but also
because I realized there are much more pools that I could ever have dreamed of.
Because you see, this song had no special meaning to our history together.
Except, I understand now, everything has a special meaning. And pools of
desolation can be in a place, in a scent, in a person. And I'll have to deal
with them somehow. So here's what I did: For 2 or 3 nights after that Sunday, I
sat at the kitchen table and drew as I listened to Le Festin, and other
unrelated I songs. I just drew and erased and drew again and erased again. It
exhausted me, but I kept going. And when I was done, I looked at my production
and was proud. I turned my immense, almost unbearable pain into a humble but
unmistakable work of art. Even if I do
say so myself. I see my pain and long sleepless hours in the trembling, imperfect
lines. I see my love through all the shapes, aiming to reach John, longing for
him. I got out of that pool. My clothes and shoes are still wet, but I got out
alive and maybe a little stronger.
I'm sending the drawing I made along with this e-mail. And
also the link to the song. If you have some minutes to spare, listen to the
song, look at my drawing and think of John. That's what I'll do after I hit
'Send'.
Le Festin - https://www.youtube.com/watch?
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