A Year Of Firsts

After tragedy hit us, me and my kids, we were all shocked and confused for a while. We were confused because it happened too soon and without any signs, sort of unexpected at the time. We were angry and sad and spent days talking and thinking and wondering if there was anything we could have done to change things, only to realize that death is as much a part of our lives as life itself. It didn’t take long for our lives to fall back in order. As C.G. Jung writes:

“In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.”

Everything is still the same from the outside except he is gone forever. We each play the role assigned for us in our family, in our society, in this world. But there is this emptiness in our lives that will never be filled no matter what. Because:

“The greatest tragedy of the family is the unlived lives of the parents.” C.G. Jung

Yesterday on my way to an appointment I drove by Omer De Serres, where my late husband shopped for his art supplies. And I remembered how just a few days before his death he bought new canvases and some oil paint. It was the first time I was passing this way after a long time. With tears in my eyes I realized that this year was a year of firsts. First birthdays, first Christmas, first Valentine’s, first Easter, first anniversary. First of everything. And in this year of firsts:

“There are as many nights as days, and the one is just as long as the other in the year’s course.” C.G .Jung

Sometimes when the day is over and the kids are back from their different schedules we sit and talk. And the talk usually centers around their late father, how proud he would be of their achievements no matter how insignificant these were to the rest of the world. How he used to encourage them, us, and how when it came to his own paintings and his art, he used to joke and tell us, “One day after I am gone my paintings will be so valuable.” And the kids would reply and say, “Why not now, when you are alive? Why talk about going? You’re not going anywhere.”

At the end of the day when I retire to bed desperately wanting to hear his voice, but knowing very well that his presence was so real and his absence so finite, I feel so lost. I think of his paintings and of how he valued art in all its forms and shapes and my heart fills with a new kind of hope. And I know that as long as I continue in his footsteps and turn to my books and writing (the only form of art that I can do well) my life would be worth living. In the words of C.G. Jung:

“Art is a kind of innate drive that seizes a human being and makes him its instrument. To perform this difficult office it is sometimes necessary for him to sacrifice happiness and everything that makes life worth living for the ordinary human being.”




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One Response to A Year Of Firsts

  1. Pingback: Yesterday Morning | Ramblings

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