It’s Our Birthday


My PouchesHey sis,

You have been on my mind almost non-stop this week. You are in my mind many times a day on a regular basis, but this week it has been every moment.  I’m sure it is because tomorrow (today!) is the third birthday I will be a twinless twin. Today I watched your celebration-of-life video that Lor had produced at Hobb’s Grove ceremony for you.  I could only get a little way through it. Beautiful. Heartbreaking.

I wonder why this year is harder.  Then again, I believe I asked that last year, our second birthday solo as well.

The photo to the left is of the two medicine pouches I usually wear on a regular basis.  I put the tree of life with the silver urn, carrying your ashes, in the pouch that I decide to wear any given day.  I think the only time I haven’t worn it was when Jim and I rushed out to cousin Debbie’s house in California because dad was declining.  I had inadvertently left it on my dresser at home. That was a rough time a few months back.

I didn’t mention that earlier.  Dad passed away on March 28th.  2 years and 2 months after you and exactly 12 hours later.  You were in the am and he in the pm.  How odd was that, huh?

KishmaAnd the photo to the right is the painting I did of you shortly after you left.  She still isn’t complete.  The steps are the wrong angle, the proportions are a bit off, the bust is wrong and I just can’t get your nose right. And I need to add more stars. Make it like the milky way…and colorful.  It is in my studio so I see you every morning.  Don’t know what I’ll do with it once I have really completed it.  Something will come to me I’m sure.

I finally got my website up and running again and updated.  I’m hoping I can really make a go of it this time.  Though time is getting short.  I need to make a profit this year or the tax folks say it is a hobby, not a business.  I’ve got a couple shows I am still going to hit this year and really promote the site.  But my heart isn’t in it this evening.  Next week maybe.

Don’t mean to be a downer Kishma.  I know you are full of joy and happiness and are literally smiling sweetly down at me.  My heart knows.  I can feel it. But the earthly me is a selfish cur, and wants to see and hear and speak with you again.

I love and miss you.


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