all images ©2017 by nanatehay
The happiness in these photos is really very compelling.
Sorry I haven’t been around this week, arrgh work. My brain feels like a damp washcloth all wrung out. I’ll attempt a comment anyway :)
These were two extraordinarily beautiful people. Physically and soulfully. I feel like I knew them both, and these images bring tears to my eyes. I can almost feel what it would have felt like to hug them. You have lost so much.
Nearly every morning I make a drawing of a little change purse my mother as a little girl used to carry her trolley tokens to go to school. It’s blue silk, her favorite color. For the minutes it takes to draw the purse, I am with her, like I was with her before I was born, unable to see her or touch her, yet still with her in a real but different sense. Perhaps entering these beautiful images does something like that for you, a ritual of remembering. Coming here does something like that for me, connecting with people who loved people I loved cyberly. You are there too, in my heart, next to tr ig. <3 <3 <3
Sorry not sorry if this got mooshy. Ya kinda asked for it with this post.
Not what you expected these pictures to mean. I know the feeling.
Dammit all to hell. I miss that boy.
Oh man, what great photos, nana.... Jon's right, the happiness in these shots is palpable. Some bittersweet, maybe, even then.
I'm rather sorry I took no photos at all while tr ig and asia were here - although tr ig did right before leaving. We laughed when I mentioned I'm not photogenic, he replies, yeah, yeah, sure. Tr ig takes several more photos, looks at the display, takes some more....eventually: "Hate to admit it, but you're right!!" he remarks. Loved his honesty!! So we shared big hugs and waved good bye - and then afterward I sucked at staying in touch. still feel bad about that. I always thought they'd get back out here for another visit - we were hoping so, anyway, hubs and I.
The mind's eye photos I have of tr ig and asia's visit are priceless though. Especially standing around in my kitchen and looking over to see tr ig, more quiet in person, just observing, eyes so alive with smarts and humor, just observing.... almost walked into a wall, I got so nervous : ) but that was at the time. Now, I just love having such a clear 'photo' I'll have forever, I think.
My heart goes out to you, nana, and to asia who also loved Sirenita.....
and Sirenita - I never got to meet her but I met her through stories told. I loved the one with you, I think, and at the end of it a mermaid scale is left.... what a incredible storyteller. She was really good. And I remember communing with her a tiny bit in threads over high school and us both being delinquents, cutting class, she a much better version than I was... she had adventures : )
there's a damn huge hole in the planet without these people here.
xo to you nana
For memory's sake...a BAV. I learned how to post these from tr ig :
the fuzzy one gets me. it's so full of them - it's like the fuzziness brings them back into focus for me. I have seen pictures of her before, but these - wow. she was magnificently beautiful.
cris helped me with my poetry. I didn't know her - we had never spoken before but she simply reached over to me - like someone offering you a warm hand when you need one; she sent a PM and our conversations went back and forth for a while. she became a friend, as friends are in this almost world we float around in, buzzing around in one another's heads.
oh but that brother of yours - he got to me, right here - deeply. I feel as if I had known him a long long time, even though our one on one exchanges were not frequent. he felt like and still feels like family - maybe a cousin - someone I know very well and love but didn't see often.
I was sitting in my studio yesterday - I'm moving all my outside watercolor junk back inside, it's getting cold and wet and I sat in my chair and he came to me very powerfully. and I thought damn steve, damn. I miss him.
how can we be here and then not? I don't understand this sometimes. I accept life and death but I don't for the life of me understand it. it vexes me how close they are - those we love - like right behidn that wall over there maybe. I don't know.
now I'm getting all weepy. but I don't care. it's GOOD to be weepy. they were something else and deserve the tears and I'm glad I knew them. I'm grateful.
thank you nana. these images are very beautiful and I feel your loss very powerfully.
Thanks, all, for coming by and sharing your thoughts and memories and BAVs. Trig loved that sort of country blues/Delta-ish thing, though he also loved electric blues and in fact his only requirement for liking or at least giving a listen to whichever artist or group or genre you can think of was, in his words, that it "not suck." When in the right mood he could do a damn good impression of Lowell George doing his patented impression of Howlin' Wolf's Forty Four Blues -
Sometimes he would do Little Feat's A Apolitical Blues, because, as Lowell said, that's the meanest blues of all -
Monkey; by the fuzzy one do you mean the very first, somewhat out of focus shot in the post, or the truly blurry night shot, 4th up from the bottom where Cris is holding her hat on her head to keep it from flying off? That's actually me with her in that one, and my apologies for including a pic of myself in a post titled in such a way that people would tend to think I wouldn't be showin' my homely phiz in it, but I am a blogwhore that way - Steve and Cris both knew that about me and are having a good laugh about it right now. In my defense, Steve was right there at the time and may in fact have taken that photo himself if Jenny didn't. We were hauling ass aboard Steve's Bass Tracker back to our campsite after a long day's fishing and laughing on Melvern Reservoir, just south of Emporia and barely east of the Flint Hills on a May evening in x year when, according to the Interwebz, the Moon was nearer the Earth than it usually ever gets.
I love that you do that with your mom's change purse, heron, and maybe my photos are in fact some version of that. There are times when I intentionally start down this path, but just as often it begins with a seemingly random conversation or other chance occurence starting a train of thought running bacckward in time and before I know it I'm going through old folders of jpegs and remembering stuff whether I want to or not. That's where this post came from actually - I've been in communication recently with someone who is interested in buying my house - this person btw didn't even bat an eye at my asking price, woo hoo - and one of the emails he sent during our discussion ended like this:
PS: You are obviously a talented, capable writer. Wasn't that how you first met Cris, at a writing web site?
So then I found myself replaying in my head that awful year when spring never came and I flew back to SF with Cris to be with her til she died, which - and here's another connection, they're all around us everywhere whether we know it or not - happened immediately after we'd bought the house I am now selling. As soon as they could, Jenny and Steve came to visit Cris out there, and Rosigami came to see her too as did JMac and many, many other folk who had known and loved her and been touched by the arc of her life. Between her diagnosis that April and her passing in August (followed by my return to the house in KCK which had been ours but now was/is just mine and the ghosts'), more things both beautiful and horrifying happened than I could ever tell about in a million photos or 10 million words, yet nonetheless all of a sudden... this post
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