Karla's Cottage

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.

 

A memory book

When Ryan died, I cut up a canvas that hung on a wall of his apartment and turned it into a book cover.  Filling the pages of that book meant weeks of happy memories as I sorted through photos and wrote down stories.

There were also many slow tears dropped onto the paper.

And other times when the sobbing was so hard, I found myself needing to lay down on the cement floor of the studio, in the bits and pieces of fallen scraps and trimmings.

That photo album has become a treasured piece for me.

 Since crafting his book, two close friends lost family members too, and I made books for them.

And this week, I put together this album for another friend’s birthday.  

She lost her mom a couple years ago.  At that time, I wasn’t making these memorials, but after seeing their meaningfulness, I wanted her to have one.

Each book that I build is a mix of photos (usually taken from Facebook), blank pages to add more pictures later, note paper to write on, with pockets and envelopes to store tokens and trinkets.

I try to use colors and styles of paper that I know my friend will like.  



And each has some doodling type artwork inside.

Mostly simple flowers, vines, or other small sketches.

And each becomes, almost a meditation for me as I assemble it.

I take time to think about the people in the photos, and feel their happiness and their loss.

Constructing these books has been good for me, an exercise in caring and time to lose myself in being creative.

Sadly, I have one more to make, and wish that there wasn’t a reason to need another one.

But since there is, I hope that the art journal can bring some comfort.

 

 

 

Pretty stones

When Twinkle passed, I brought her home from the vet’s office to show her to the other dogs.  I knew they would look for her if I didn’t.  You might think it’s odd, but we showed Ryan’s body to our pets too. They were overly excited about a room filled with paramedics and other professionals during a pandemic when they hadn’t been around many people, so it wasn’t exactly a moving moment. 

But at least they knew why Uncle Ryan wasn’t around for ear scratches and walks any more.

It would’ve been easier to have Twinkle cremated, my husband was out of town and it was 100 degrees that day.  But I hated to think of the other dogs always looking for her and not knowing where she was.

I buried her next to Ryan’s memorial tree.  

A dear friend and her daughter had engraved and painted rocks for me and I’d been planning on placing them by this oak.  I am glad I hadn’t done it yet, they were just what I needed to top Twinkle’s grave.

I used some of the rocks in planters too.  

Ryan is never out of my thoughts, but I still like to have little trinkets and mementos of him around me.

 

 

 

 

He cared so much about things that made me happy

We had lovely remembrance moments for Ryan.  On Sunday, some exceptionally wonderful friends brought over dinner and wine.  

We sat on the patio, and we all cuddled pups before I spread some ashes on the Uncle Tree and gave an egoogley (Zoolander for eulogy).

The Sugarbabies thought the get together was all about them.

Well, typically, everything is.  But my pals were very kind and considerate about honoring Ryan. 

It was a small, but meaningful group.

Ryan’s legal time of death is the 24th, but we feel like he died the night of the 23rd, so we did something both days for him.

On Monday, we tried to get as many of the family as we could together for a walk on Ryan’s favorite trail, dinner at a place he loved, and squeezed in between all of that, an 8th grade concert.

The day we found him, we had planned a big, family walk on the trails he loved.  

But that didn’t happen.

We took a walk there a year later in his honor, and I brought some ashes to sprinkle.  I wasn’t sure where I would do it, until I saw this perfectly mossy heart!

I can almost hear the excitement in his voice, if he’d been with me when I found it.  He cared so much about things that made me happy.  We often took time to stop and exclaim over tidbits that I found, or just to watch the red wing black birds in the pond.  

“He cared so much about things that made me happy.”

That sums up a lot about Ry Guy.  I was beyond blessed to have a person in my world who wanted me to smile.

 

 

One year today. No words