I just spent the most fabulous weekend at The Scrapbooking Studio in Moline, IL with the most fabulous Dyan Reaveley. I am adjective impaired when it comes to describing 16 hours of classes with this lady, or perhaps I have too many descriptive words? Either way, I couldn't begin to do justice to the atmosphere and energy Dyan provided every minute of the entire weekend. I laughed, I learned, I created, I was in awe of the techniques she taught and the art we created. She couldn't be more genuine or giving of herself, her talent, her life. Beyond awesome. Art from the heart indeed, the only way to go. The fibro kicked my ass both days; I could barely walk today but I'd think about the fun and the art and I smiled a big happy smile. I traveled with my art chicks Linda and Marilynn, and other than the fact that I view speed limits as mere suggestions, I do believe we all had a marvelous time AND we got there and back safe and pretty darn quick. We saw old friends, met new ones, ate wonderful food, and shared a bathroom without a single fist fight. It was truly a weekend I'll never forget.
|Linda, Marilynn, and me.|
AKA: The Naughty Table
|Dyan (with her mustache) and I smiling pretty.|
It was an unforgettable weekend for a different reason as well. It was the first time since Beth's death that I've ventured out. I've taken a few on-line classes and gone to my art group, but nothing this big. Home has been my refuge, my safe place, and I'm quite happy being there. For the longest time I couldn't even imagine having the energy or desire to want to commit to a weekend like this. But then Dyan came around and I took a big step and realized once I was there that there was exactly where I was supposed to be. I thought of Beth often over the two days I spent in class and so wished I could tell her all about Dyan; she would have loved her spirit and confidence and her crayon RED hair.
I'm healing. A small part of me thinks I shouldn't be, like if I'm feeling better I might forget. I know, like I could ever forget Beth...but there's a small tinge of guilt none the less. Beth would be the first to tell me to get on with my life, to enjoy, to go out and make a difference, to laugh TOO loud. I miss her so much. I also know healing is the correct word, never healed. When you love someone and they die, you are forever changed. The grief never leaves, you never heal, you're never "over it." You adjust and adapt and feel better much of the time and then WHAM, you hear a song or smell a smell and it's like you're back at the start again, feeling like you got kicked in the gut. I feel like I've been kicked in the gut a lot less, so that's healing for me. I think of Beth every day, I talk to her, and I can even sometimes smile now when I do; that's healing for me. And this weekend with Dyan? That was truly healing for me, too.
|Laugh too loud. Thank you, lovely Dyan, |
for sharing your spirit with me!