It’s been eight years already that we have made Montreal our home. We came with so much hope to start a new life for us and our kids in a better place. A lot has happened since then. And when I look back I realize that perhaps it would have been better to still have him with us and live in not so better a place than to live without him.
Yesterday was yet another emotional rollercoaster ride for me. I have been driving my husband’s car since he passed away. And the kids and I decided that it was about time to change the ownership. So I went to the SAAQ office to take care of the matter.
After I signed the final document, “I have closed his file,” said the woman who was processing my papers and she started to cry. Until that moment I thought I was being brave and doing fine trying to hold back my tears. I couldn’t anymore and I broke down in front of everyone in the room.
“Closed his file.” I so hated those words. I sat in my car and cried some more. So that’s it, I thought. Now all his files are closed. It took less than eight years to open and close his files. How pathetic. How unlucky could he be.
So much has happened in that short time that I am terrified. We still live in the same house we rented but we have new neighbors now. Neighbors that wake us in the middle of the night with their screams and shouts and cries. And every time I think the worse is yet to come. Agnes De Mille writes:
“Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how. The moment you know how, you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.”
Being the artists and the dreamers that we were, we took leap after leap in the dark. Sometimes our leaps brought us success but most of the time we struggled to stand on our feet. But together we were a team and we were not afraid. Susan Jeffers writes:
“We cannot escape fear. We can only transform it into a companion that accompanies us on all our exciting adventures. … Take a risk a day- one small or bold stroke that will make you feel great once you have done it.”
My late husband was a risk taker. Throughout his entire life he gambled with his fate. He dreamed and aimed high and he created. He had visions and he sketched, he drew, he painted. He painted the most intriguing images. And even though he never gave an exhibition, not in this part of the world, he kept creating.
He kept painting the most captivating images one can imagine. He saw beauty everywhere around him even when battling cancer. He always said:
“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss it you will land among the stars.” Les Brown
Your file will never be closed with us my darling. We will always love you and forever miss you.