Grief has made me creative with my mourning.
in unexpected ways - art asks me to do the things that turn into an Altar.
An honoring that is close to my heart and not overtly obvious.
I was looking for my spray to cure my pastel art.
It seems I ran out. I knew that I could temporarily use some kind of aerosol.
Grief also means holding on to random things.
leading me to the shrined and untouched hair spray my beloved grandmother used.
Y’all know the kind
Lusters Pink
The scent filled the air and instantly remembered the signature coif.
The muño
she always wore.
And the art cures even shinier. A win win.
Perhaps this isn’t professional or what not but is deeply personal.
P.S.
Okap turns 335 years old today
My Papi would have been 70 years old
Yesterday was Bwa Kayiman
To me none of these dates are coincidence.
Some people are catalysts — born of fire and steady flames to keep change alive and burning.
I immortalized him in this short story. It is so personal to me. Grief at times moves me to etch those in spirit into stories and poems.
They keep living. Through our love.
