Day 23 continued

The art therapist at hospice has been trying to get me to go to open studio.

But I'm not creative.

What would I put together?

Seriously, what could I do that accurately says I hate cancer?

What work could express anger in the same manner in which I want to literally kick the scissors and glue sticks across the room?

How can you show a broken heart? One that wants Mom to stay here on earth yet knows to free her of pain means to let go?

So I tried to avoid the art therapist like the plague.

But she found me.

And that's when she recommended I bring Amara in for ceramics night.

Amara painted a jewelry box for her Lola.

And I painted a simple plate that I had Amara and Mom personalize.

The handprint was difficult for Mom to place. We chose her left hand - the hand that is constantly curled - for the piece. But I wanted it that way. This is Mom. This is who she is today.

All I could think about is my family. And the joy they bring me.

Painting tonight made me forget about the anger, the sadness, the pain. Even if for just an hour or two.