September Art Greetings…

September Greetings to you on this, almost middle of the month already. Where does time go? I never understood what adults meant when they said this. But as my life has slowed down and our nest emptied…I am all too aware of the fleeting essence of time.

On August 21 I lost my dad. He would’ve been 81 the following 31st. He was quarantined with Covid, appeared to be mending, and joked with the nurses at 3:30am, and at 5am he was gone. We jokingly called my dad the cat with 9 lives, because he had a lot of very serious health complications that he’d always managed to fight back from, until this time.

If you’re here for the art, then please see my current work in progress. However, if you continue reading, I should warn you that my next paragraphs are opinions about Covid, unvaccinated, and selfishness.

#WorkInProgress #valeriedowdyart

Covid is still a very real problem in nursing and memory care facilities. Of all places this confounds me the most. Why???!!! The people who need protected the most-yet people carelessly continue to spread this virus without care.

Yes, I am a bit bitter and fed up with humanity in general. At the very root of this problem, people simply refuse to be uncomfortable or stay away from a moment of pleasure; but rather, put someone defenseless, like the elderly at risk. Quite frankly, what does this say about us as a society? Not much, in my own opinion.

If you’re still reading, then bravo! Because that tells me you are a mask wearer and vaccinated. Thank you. ❤️😷

I was scrolling Pinterest this week and I ran across this poem. I truly wish I’d had or known of it before before my Dad’s graveside service. Instead I will share it with you.

Do not stand at my grave and weep, 
I am not there;
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamonds that glint in the snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.
~Mary Elizabeth Frye

I will miss you always Dad
Until next time, Valerie