|rom my art journal 10.22.16 (gesso, ink, Tombow paint markers, acrylic paint, tissue paper, found papers)|
The first year after the death is a murkier time. Some days I hardly l know myself, hardly know whose name I answer to. Other days, my life seems infused with an intense clarity and truths are revealed some times at alarming rates. In between these swings are moments of sweet, sweet grace.
In the last month I have sensed Rob as if he was embodied once again and existing just beyond the reach of my fingers. I imagine his lips, and nearly feel the featherlight touch of his to mine. Love lives beyond the confines of our bodies and yet we crave what our bodies crave.
Touch. Weight. Corporeal bliss.
The veil between him and me, there and here, thins. I am body restless and wake more than I seem to sleep these last few weeks.