Karla's Cottage

Seashell fairies at Indian Rocks

 I had a restful, and much needed vacation with my sisters at the beach.

Indian Rocks is not my favorite beach, mostly because of the lack of shells.  But the ocean was beautiful, the sunsets were colorful, and the company was the best.  Plus, I managed to find just enough shells to make two fairies.

And I am being very precise with my words telling you that, there honestly were not many shells.  

I was pleased to be able to make one fairy and felt very lucky to have scrambled enough shells together for her, then told myself on the last day that I wanted to find a heart and create an Angel for my Ryan before I left.  The wind was rough that day so I decided to walk into it for the first part of the stroll, knowing it’s always easier to return with the wind at your back, not in your face.

These bits and pieces came my way on that last, windy walk and I was able to construct this for Ryan, just as I’d hoped to.  I sprinkled a few more of his ashes, listened to his song again, and told him that I love him.

But he knows that.

Here is the first sprite I made.  Her hair looks like she was battling the wind as much as I was, doesn’t it? 

I consider her more of a fairy, and the second one is an Angel.  But I guess it is all in the eyes of who sees them and what they think of them.  

That is, if anyone actually sees them.  But that isn’t the point of making them.  

The beach fairies are a blessing and a thank you to nature that I make for the pure pleasure of crafting them.

My sissies took me to another beach, where I also gathered some shells to bring home.  I’m hoping to craft some shellfolk in epoxy with those, so will have some to share that aren’t just memories that wash away in the surf.

 

At the beach

Last week,  I spent five days at Indian Rocks with my sisters.  We had very pleasant, although a bit windy, weather.  

And lots of time to sit on the edge of the water and let our toes wiggle into the disappearing sand that washes out with the waves.

My niece was also visiting with her family, so we had good company to hang with.  I actually had someone there who liked getting in the surf, and at the same time that the temperature was ideal for swimming! The only trouble was that my head is still wonky from Sugar plowing into me, and I didn’t want to jostle my brain by getting flipped around too much while wave jumping.

So I mostly just waded out into about waist deep water and made the big girl choice of not body surfing back in.  

Ugh.  Being practical and safe sucks.  

Indian Rocks is relaxing, which is what I needed.  My Dr. told me that I should be resting, so that is what I did.  Most of the time, I was sitting on the beach or the balcony wearing dark glasses and not reading.  

By mid week, I actually was feeling better.  I still avoided going out much, and stayed in when others went out to eat a few times.

Typically, I walk for hours when in Florida, but this time, it was pretty low key, with shorter strolls.  On one trip up the shore, I came across this dead bonnet head shark, about 2’ long. That was something I’ve never seen before.  He looked about the way I felt, after dealing with weeks of concussion discomfort, fog, and kind of an overall flatness.  I simply have not been myself.

Still, I  did get out to explore the area, it wasn’t all droopiness and exhaustion.  We went antiquing and exploring a couple times too.  The beach we stayed at had a serious lack of shells.  

I mean, sadly so.  I am always glad to find broken bits to use in my sea shell fairies, but dang, this place mostly had shapeless crumbs.

So my sisters took me to Passé Grille beach after I did some research on nearby beaches to hunt shells on.  You really can’t tell from this photo, but behind me are piles and piles of shells, like snowdrifts.  We went to the tip of the island, which was rocky and excellent for catching all the ones that washed up.

Another morning, we played tourist at the Don Cesar.  We have stayed there before, but it’s pretty pricey, so this time we were visitors, not guests.  And you know what?  That works out pretty well.  Honestly, the rooms there, while being elegant, are too small.  Renting a spacious condo, driving to and spending time walking through the Pink Palace, strolling their beach, then having some ice cream is a better way to go for us.

We were there before it got hot, then did some antiquing after. 


Shelling wasn’t great, but better than Indian Rocks, (which could be said about any beach because Indian Rocks is about as bad as it gets).  I found enough to make a heart for Ryan.

 It was the anniversary of his death.

I listened to his song and sprinkled a handful of ashes. I always take a little bag with me when I travel.  I know, pretty weird, but Ryan was always such a good travel buddy.  Funny, he hated, absolutely hated to travel, but when we made him go on family adventures he had the best attitude of anyone there and was helpful, thoughtful and fun to be with.  

So I like to find a quiet spot, sprinkle some ash and tell him how much I’d have enjoyed having him with me.

 

 

 

Two years now

Here is a song I wrote for Ryan, with Music by Matt Pryor.  Beth made the slide show.

 

 

 

 

Another redo for Ryan’s apartment

For Ryan’s 40th birthday, he wanted his apartment fixed up.  He chose the paint colors and flooring, we got light fixtures and ripped out his bathroom to replace the shower, toilet and sink.  

There had been a kitchenette that he never used in the living room, so we pulled it out and covered up the plumbing hook ups.

After he died, we switched it up a little, and purchased a new bed, but mostly left it as it was.  We just enhanced it and made it more fitting for a guest to stay in.

Then for various reasons, it was occupied by family members all between leases and waiting to move to their new places. 

As they brought their belongings in and out, Ryan’s things got shifted and resettled, we gave his couch away to make space, finally took some things to goodwill, sent his gaming systems to others who might use them, and well, it just didn’t feel the same afterwards.  
We used to go in there sometimes to feel close to him, and no longer could do that.

Now that it is empty again, I wanted to honor Ryan by using some things he cared about, but make the room even more functional as a guest room.  Also, I got a new sofa in my own living room, and to save money, took my old one up to the apartment.

It’s a very different style than the previous couch.  But I think it still works in the room.

Amazon had a stretchy, seat cushion cover that warmed up the white on white look, and I found some great pillow covers there too.  And ticking striped curtains!  I really liked those, and since the other ones had been attacked by kitties and had to go I had a good reason to splurge.

Hopefully, these additions make the couch less foofy/girly than it was when I had it covered in floral pillows for the last 15 years while using it in the cottage.

His coffee table needed the top repainted and I went with gray, but then didn’t like that with his Black and Tan rug, so I got this runner to tie in the colors better.

People were so generous with floral arrangements after he died.  I’ve saved each vase and have been covering them in mosaic glass.  

And while this sounds pretty silly when I tell you about it, it’s very meaningful to me.  Ryan was always the first one up after every meal, clearing dishes, scraping the glass cook top with a razor and wiping out the microwave.   He also used to hang out and chat while I did pour paintings, even though he didn’t make any himself (I wish I’d pushed him to try!)

So here is the silly part.

When our microwave needed replacing, I saved the glass tray, primed it, and made it into a painting.  It is now a tray in his room.

Half of his space was set up as a home gym, which we took down because my husband already has a workout space in his office.  To honor Ryan’s dedication and in apology to him for taking out the gym, I placed this stone that says “strength” on the microwave tray.

Its all just symbols, Those little things were not here when he was here.  But they are chocked full of meaning to me, none the less.

Same with these two pictures.  They were not his, but they remind me of Malarkey, the red bird that drove Ryan bananas by dive bombing the windows.  That bird was a regular part of our conversations and Ry went back and forth between laughing about him and hating him.

 I hung the vintage prints so the story will be a part of this room.

The area that held the gym, now has a table and chairs. 

They also, have nothing to do with my son.  But I painted them in the colors he chose when we redecorated the room on his birthday.

His guitar hangs on the wall.  It has a pretty, mother of pearl inlay and he loved it. 

There are so many changes to his space.

Just like there are so many other changes since he died.  Things do continue to go on and to morph, don’t they?  But the memories are there and the love is forever.  While this room no longer looks like it did when he lived in it, to me, his light will always live on in there.

A poem for Ryan

Almost two years without our Ry.

With his hidden strength beneath kind eyes

That had seen cruelty

But instead looked for peace.

He had to change his reality

To put his mind at ease.

 

A lifetime of struggle a lifetime of change

A hurt boy, a hurt soul, a new man, a new day.

Carefully controlling the fears to keep them at bay

Growing into his laughter, his comfort, his space

Learning to allow himself joy in a limited way.

 

It’s been too long without our Ry.

With his heart so weak, but true.

In his youth they saw that he was shy

But didn’t know he was deep

There was more to him than many knew

The unfairness, the waste, makes me weep

 

Has it been forever without our Ry?

It seems he was just here with me.

I still see his flashing smile as days go by

And I roam where we walked endlessly.

We could talk about nothing

As we talked of everything effortlessly.

 

There was more to him than he ever knew

The unfairness and loss makes me weep.

His kindness, his humor, his handsomeness too

Were all beyond where his thoughts could leap.

With torment and doubt clouding his mind

He worked, and he tried, he strived and he cried.

Did he ever feel that people could see

The man he became, the one so kind?

 

It’s been too long without our Ry.

Without his “I Love You” and a kiss on my head

A quiet smile when he said “hi”

And his warm, loving hugs would begin

The dog’s tiny paws would dance

After work when she heard his car pull in

 

Almost two years without our Ry

The pain and the loss makes me weep.

No, it’s not easier as days slip by

This is a suffering I’ll keep.

The rest of the ice resin

While in Florida, I found a never ending treasure trove of hearts on Walton Rocks beach near Ft Pierce.  Some rocks, some shells, all eliciting squeals of joy from me.  These were found in three trips.

 I had big plans for a beachy toned display, but then decided I wanted to fill this black tray and use it in Ryan’s apartment.  I pressed the hearts into tile adhesive which was a sandy gray tone.

Sorry, no pics of that stage.  But- the hearts all sorta disappeared into the background and the adhesive was blah.  So, I tried some gemstone flakes in aqua shades, still not enough contrast.

I decided to use fluorite chips for more distinction.  I’m not a person who has much purple in their life, but I have nothing against the color.  And Ry’s room has pops of bright colors in it to brighten up the grays, so in theory it should work.

But overall, it was just kinda messy.  I should’ve done something else with my treasures.  Plus, the hearts were all different thicknesses and it wasn’t functional as a tray, and too heavy to be a wall hanging.

That is when I decided to use ice resin.  Which was a good idea, but maybe I should’ve used more?  There are still some high points.  But, overall, it did make the tray more functional.

Many of the rocks had holes, and I tucked heart shaped garnets (Ryan’s birthstone) into them before pouring on the resin.

Ryan would’ve liked it, and I am enjoying using some colors in his room that I don’t typically use in my cottage.  And I think I will probably try out more resin projects in the future.

Ryan’s birthday

Today is Ryan’s birthday.  He always loved that day.  He didn’t expect much, or ask for anything, he was a guy of simple pleasures.

He often took his week’s vacation from work around this date, just to relax.

Our family does a big dinner for the birthday person, not always on the exact date, but when we can all get the same day free.  Many years, it would just be myself and Ryan, sometimes Sugarwings too on January 27.  So he and I would get a double celebration, once with the group, and another with just us.

 It seems like there was always snow on those evenings.  Bitter cold nights, that neither of us liked to face, but we were glad we did.  It seemed to be Jayhawks basketball time too, which neither of us like. And with his sensory disorder, the loud games were upsetting.  So we’d find a quiet restaurant with no tv blaring a game, or people shouting for their team. It was often Mexican food, and we would eat too many chips and guacamole, drink Diet Cokes, laugh, and plan what show we would watch when we got home. 

Simple evenings with my buddy, having fun, just being together. 


 Grief is a odd thing.  How it can morph from joyful memories to deep despair, shoot out at you with no warning with unexpected jolts of pain, or of sweetly remembered pleasant thoughts.

Grief is also layered when you lose a child.  I miss my companion of the later years, my friend.  My guac and Diet Coke buddy who I watched my favorite shows with, critiquing, laughing, and guessing about the plots throughout.

 He and I could talk for hours about nothing and be entertained. 

But then there are the flashes of his childhood that come after me with a fury.  When I remember that the tiny baby I held in my arms was dead.  That the silly little boy who loved to dance would never dance again.  

 

Always remembering my boy

When Ryan died, people were so generous with their gifts and responses.  I was moved by each and every card, present, memento, story, etc.  Each was cherished, each meant that Ryan wasn’t forgotten.  

Maybe because he was a guy who was shy, hesitant to stand out, and often overlooked, knowing that people cared about him and reached out helped.  

I cried over armfuls of envelopes when I carried in the mail.  I read and reread the notes.  I planted the trees, hung the wind chimes, and overall, cherished all of the gifts.

Many people sent flowers, and I kept the blooms going as long as I could. I shared some with family to take to their homes, and spread the rest around ours.  I trimmed the stems and changed the water daily to make the flowers last.  Then, when the freshness was past saving, I dried what I could, and filled a cabinet with the vases.

But I did not want them to become a forgotten stash of unwanted glassware to eventually be donated to Goodwill.  Instead, I decided to do something special with them, and on a few, I am attempting mosaics. (I don’t have good grouting skills, though, I will have to work on cleaning a bit more off of this one).

Others, I have decorated and filled with garden flowers and given away on special occasions. I’d like to  take an embellished vase filled with iris that Ryan planted into the nursing home he worked at, on the anniversary of his death next spring.  


Thank you to everyone who offered hope to me with kind words and thoughtful expressions of care.  I was moved and heartened by your gestures.

 

 

 

 

Tiny, Baby Ryan

My pal, Sandy, brought some old photos to our high school  reunion.  One was of little, baby Ryan (and little, baby me).

Not long ago, I had found something I wanted to add to the special album I had made with Ryan’s photos.  It was ideal to glue a picture to and hang from the book. I thought to myself that I’d add one later when I got another, because I’d used all the pics I had.

Then it hit me.

I would never have another new picture of my son.

Those are the moments that hit the hardest.  When I forget.  When I think to myself that I have to tell him something funny, or that a new season of one of our shows is starting, or show him the dog’s new haircut.  To simply share joys or jokes with him.  

That is when I tearfully write him a letter and fold it up with a kiss and tuck it safely into the urn.  And miss him all anew, with a fresh pain.  At first, it is pleasant to forget and to think of him like he is still here, but then, the ache that slams into my heart when I remember that he is not,  just about knocks me to my knees.

I was thrilled to get this new photo.  And to see how my baby was looking at me with love.  

I miss seeing that expression, he was a loving guy.

 

A framed stained glass mosaic by Shanna- Thanks, Shan!

This lovely surprise was created by my good friend and Artist, Shanna Wagner.  I love everything she makes, but this one is even more wonderful because it is jam packed with meaning.

I can just picture his reaction, if he’d seen this.  He had an appreciation for artwork.  And for kind people.

The heart in the center is a fused piece she made in her kiln.

It is surrounded by roses, iris,  hydrangeas,

and two bluebirds of happiness!

It was made to fit this antique frame, that is just perfectly wonderful itself.

And it is created to hang either in a window to let the sunlight through, or on a wall, with lights behind it.

Ryan loved red roses and purple iris.  Funny, I’d known him forty years before I knew how much he enjoyed flowers.  We’d stop to look at them along our walks.  There were iris growing by the pond we liked to circle, over and over, and he commented every time when the purple iris were in bloom.

There was so much I learned about my boy in his last few years, I wonder what else I’d have discovered if I had more time with him?

Shan isn’t just generous with her art, she is with her time, home, and materials too.  She invites friends into her studio weekly to have a mosaic day.  Here is my piece in progress.

I saved the vases that flowers were delivered to us in after Ry Guy died.  I hope to cover them all in mosaic glass to use throughout our home and his apartment.  And I know that he would have said, “Wow, Mom, that is cool!”

While there is much I will never get to discover about him, I love it that I know enough to hear his voice in my head, picturing what I know he would say to me about something like these mosaics.