Posts Tagged ‘kukla’

04.16.17

Posted on: April 16th, 2017 by jmbroekman No Comments
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I am still trying to get it right, always.

In my more evolved brain, I realize this is an impossible task: getting it right. Whatever “it” is, and whatever “right” is. In April, when the days are longer and the moments of spring peek out from under the leftover snow, “it” is the darkness of memory. “Getting it right” is not letting it get me; an endeavor that appears to be a lost battle. No matter how I try to avoid it, or ignore it, or pretend it no longer exists, grief has a way of slamming me up against a wall every year at this time.

This year I tried giving in to it. I cleared my calendar/schedule, and allowed for some uninterrupted time in my studio, where I worked on writing my sister a letter, by way of a painting. Though I didn’t manage to finish the letter/painting, I did find a certain amount of calm and peace in the process. And I spent a lot of time with her favorite color: purple.

Fifty shades of purple

Purple, it seems, comes in an infinite number of shades and variations. I wonder, did Kukla prefer one that leaned toward blue, or one that was more rose colored? I spent the better part of this past week mixing at least fifty shades of puprle for my sister. It made me think of how hard it is to define what color any particular lilac bush is: is that the “true” color lilac? When I look at the image of the painting on the left – the result of all that purple mixing – it appears more blue than purple; and I suspect there are those, including Kukla, who might argue with me about whether or not you could call this a purple painting.

While I’m not sure I got any of “it right” – the purples, the paintings in general – throwing color and paint around did at least keep the grief, if not at bay, at least in some kind of manageable perspective. The fact that little purple flowers are popping up all of sudden, helped too. I still miss my sister with all my heart and soul, and am beginning to accept that longing as simply a part of what life has handed me. Now the key is to integrate that understanding into my being with some grace.

And special thanks to my friend Debbie Schmitt, for bringing me a box of pansies yesterday, which added to my purple arsenal, and inspired me to get out my watercolors and start a new batch of flower drawings. ‘Tis the season.

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09.07.15

Posted on: September 7th, 2015 by jmbroekman No Comments
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Another painting for my sister

And another birthday for which she is absent. I have little else to add to what I’ve already written about losing her. The longing does not go away. Nor the anger. And yet, as my friend Jeffery so poignantly said the other day, we are all heading toward the same destination: either a box or an urn. Some will get there more quickly than others. All of which begs us to find ways to relish the beauty and splendor for whatever limited time we have here on earth .

04.16.15

Posted on: April 15th, 2015 by jmbroekman 1 Comment

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Painting Pitchers for Kukla

There are few words to describe what I am feeling on the eve of the 10th anniversary of my sister’s death. Ten years. How is that possible? A decade that feels at once like both an entire lifetime, and one short breath. I still miss her as much as ever. I guess I always will.
Morning Addendum – with thanks to my friend Janet’s comment. Here is an image I will keep in my line of sight today. Back in the day, when we all lived in NY; Janet would end up in my Montague Street apartment after running over the bridge from her Pell Street apartment, in need of a sweatshirt and token for the trip home; invariably, my sister would arrive home from work, and knock on my door to see what I was making for dinner. No matter what I suggested, each dish more appealing than the next in Janet’s view, none of it was ever terribly enticing to my sister. Janet and I have laughed about that for years. And today that picture in my mind’s eye makes me smile. Thank you Janet.

09.07.14

Posted on: September 7th, 2014 by jmbroekman 2 Comments

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Another Birthday, Another Purple Vase

Kukla would be celebrating her 61st birthday today. I don’t know what else to say about that except that time is becoming something that I am having more and more difficulty comprehending. Is it merely that the force that we know as “time” is forever shifting? Or maybe just that it is not the force of time that shifts, but rather, that time stands still as we move along a trajectory that is less straight line, than circuitous route.

The hole that she left is as wide and deep as ever, but my ability to peer around or over it is getting much better. For that I am extremely grateful.

Time Present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.

– T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton

04.16.14

Posted on: April 16th, 2014 by jmbroekman 6 Comments
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Daffodils (again) for my sister.

Nine years and still counting, grieving and wondering.

Nine years and still missing you as much as ever.

It snowed last night, but the sun is shining today. The purple crocuses bloom right on schedule – they always pop their bright little heads out of the ground just in time for me to light a candle for Kukla. This year there are more of them than ever before. They are begging me to smile despite what this day represents and brings into the forefront of my mind. I’ll do my best.

Photo below, about 1 week after Kukla’s 3rd birthday. What a look!

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