dance of a painted lady: family of the heart

Showing posts with label family of the heart. Show all posts

Love and Missing

When I was young I didn't understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird.

Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler's Wife

Today is Robert's Birthday and almost three years since we lost him. Impossible to think of that really. They say time heals but I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the space on earth that he no longer inhabits. It will always be just that to me, a space. His space. This photograph is on the pinboard in my kitchen - me and my other siblings on the lagoon beach in our home town. It was taken many years before Rob died and I don't remember why he wasn't there but, whenever I look at it now, I imagine him walking in the space between B and I, in the space that will always be his.

Today, naturally, he's very much on my mind and I'm trying to focus on the love rather than the loss. Rob knew how to love. He was such a kind, open and loving person and despite hurts that would have left some of us too guarded to go there again, he did. I so admired that about him.

I intend to crank up the music and spend some time painting today. He drew and painted so beautifully and I wish he could see what I'm doing now with colour and canvas, and how much I'm enjoying it. I think he would have approved. It would've been such fun to paint together, something we never had the chance to do.

I'm also starting a blog series in honour of making space for love - the things I love, the places I love and, most importantly, the people I love. I'd like to rekindle the pleasure blogging brings me and that I've recently not made space for in the frenzy of work and the daily grind. I have no real plan except that I think it'll run for 42 days... one for each year that Rob lived and loved.

Happy Birthday Rob! We miss you. Now and always.

K xox

It runs in the family...

Mum...

...Dad...

...and Auntie Kenda, are often caught on camera, with a camera in hand.

We love taking photographs.

Now there's a new generation of enthusiast in the making... I love that!

Fragile

A week ago today my aunt died. A few days before that, we'd been together - sharing dinner and laughter and chatter; talking about books, family, recent holidays and new adventures. She was her usual lovely self - twinkling eyes, slightly naughty giggle and ever-ready snaphappy camera at hand. We made plans to meet again before I fly back to the UK. We hugged, we said good night. We were laughing about gorgeous men in kilts....

And then, three days later, she was gone. No illness, no warning. Just gone.

She was only sixteen years older than I am. A beautiful, warm and vibrant woman, with a lovely, exotic name that suited her so well - Leila Joy. She was like loveglue in our large and extended family - always, always, no matter what happened, or how splintered or far-flung we became, drawing us together and keeping us connected, sharing in our happiest celebrations and saddest times with obvious pleasure and unfailing compassion. There are a million little moments, from my very earliest memories to my most recent, that shine brighter and richer because she is part of them. She loved her family, fast cars, bold colours, entertaining, Schnauzers, dressing up, pretty nail-polish, photographs in frames and albums, facebook, our blogs, OB's sherry and malva pudding... oh, there's a catalogue of things that bring her to mind because she loved them. She loved....

She loved.

And we loved her.

And now she's gone.

And I am reminded, again, how fragile this life we have is. How fragile.

Not to be taken for granted. To be lived fully, richly, with love. Because all too soon, it's gone.

Sabbatical skies (three)

I could never stay long enough on the shore, the tang of the untainted, fresh and free sea air was like a cool, quieting thought.

Helen Keller

(1880-1968)

Spending my week here... in one of those seafront apartments, visiting one of my lovely aunts. The apartment is up high and has a view like a living painting - ever-changing and absolutely beautiful. But even more amazing is what's inside the apartment.

My aunt is someone who fills some of my earliest, and some of my most recent, creative memories. She is an artist and a nurturer of artistic spirit: a skilled and experienced educator who has always valued and made time for creative pursuits and encouraged her daughters and nieces to do the same. Over the years she's supported our dreams, honoured our achievements, helped us stitch up the pieces of our broken hearts, and believed in us even when we were unable to believe in ourselves. And always, no matter what, art's been the way we've processed the stuff we're working through together. Art as therapy. Art as celebration. Art as soulfood. Art for pleasure and art for pain. No emotion or medium has been unexplored.

These days she expresses herself by creating the most amazing quilts; quilts that tell personal stories and are exquisite artworks wrought in fabric, designed with talent and sewn with love. And she does it here, in this apartment overlooking the bay. The place is a jewel-box of beautiful fabrics, works in progress, inspirational materials and creative energy. I love it. And I love spending time there, with her.

It's going to be a good week.

[photographs taken by my sister on a recent drive around the coast]

A special stillness...

...found on an Autumn day, on the farm. Just the two of us, my sister and me. A rare treat.

Rob's beach

Gentle days and soft greys...

Everything that ever walked or crawled on the face of the earth, swum the depths of the ocean or soared through the skies left its imprint here.

Robert M. Fresco

(1930)

Walking the shores of the Indian Ocean... warm air, warm water... warm heart! Leaving our footprints alongside those of the birds, the fishermen, their dogs and the hippo.

*picture, middle right - adult male sibling foot alongside adult male/female hippo spoor. Not something one often encounters at the beach.

iSimangaliso Safari

iSimangaliso must be the only place on the globe where the oldest land mammal (the rhinoceros) and the world’s biggest terrestrial mammal (the elephant) share an ecosystem with the world’s oldest fish (the coelacanth) and the world’s biggest marine
mammal (the whale)

Nelson Mandela

One translation of the Zulu word isimangaliso is 'a marvel'. Another translates it as a 'miracle and wonder' and indeed, it is.

iSimangaliso Wetland Park is one of South Africa’s most amazing natural treasures and became a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1999, part of a huge nature reserve shared by South Africa, Swaziland and Mozambique. I've visited some of this area before but not for many, many years and it was so lovely to go again in the company of some of my family, including my brother, who's a qualified game ranger and was, therefore, quite useful to have along (okay, he's quite good company too! ;)

The wetland park hosts a variety of ecological marvels, including long sandy beaches, swamps, savannas, grasslands, dunes (including the 2nd largest vegetated dune in the world), lakes and reed wetlands. The extensive and unique combination of ecological diversity is apparently because of its location in a transition zone between subtropical and tropical Africa. The wildlife is abundant and to see them all in their natural habitats... such a pleasure.

Giant leatherback turtles are a common sight on the beaches at the right times of the year (we didn't see any but I am definitely going back for that - it's on the list!) and the area is a migration route for whale sharks, whales and dolphins (my brother and I have had the privilege of swimming and diving with these). There are over 900 hippo in the reserve (I think we saw about 850 of them) and a large population of African Nile crocodiles, currently around 1500 we were told (we saw seven. That was plenty for me - creepy!).

It's hard to even begin to capture the beauty and magic of this place or its residents and my little camera and I and were woefully unequal to the task but I thought I'd share some of what we managed anyway. It's one of those places that really has to be experienced to be truly appreciated and at times I forgot to even lift my lens and was entirely content to just absorb it and be absorbed by it.