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Less than a month ago, I experienced a trip of a lifetime with my son.  He planned a "bucket list" trip for us to visit the American Southwest, especially the Grand Canyon and Monument Valley in Arizona.  As a child I was raised on John Wayne westerns, seeing those magical natural wonders over and over.  If you have ever traveled there, you know.  The scenery is amazing, stunning, and a hundred other superlatives that all fall short of the beauty you behold.  There is a sacredness that touches your soul.

When I returned, my husband's fragile health had taken a turn for the worse.  After ten years of struggling with illness, he rapidly declined over several days, and ended with his death, at home, in his room, with me by his side. He died peacefully, without struggle or pain. My life of forty-four years was turned upside down. 

Throughout those years, I came to find my calling with my art.  It provided a celebration of life each time I sat at the easel, a solace when I was sad or discouraged, a mental vacation when I was unable to travel, an income that provided for every need. Creating guided me through many of life's storms and helped me to safe harbor. 

And now, after this final hurricane of grief, it will comfort me again.  As I step into the studio once more, from a very different world, I will find my old friends - the brushes and paints, the tools of my trade -- waiting for me.  My soul will be blessed, and  it will augment the love and support of family and friends who so want to help.  I'll be okay, one day, when the storm clouds clear.