Lately I’ve been doing large acrylic paintings on canvas. I wanted one for over my bed. I didn’t know this would become my next big thing for a while. With these abstracts, I really try to clear my mind of expectation for the finished piece, and just do that act of painting. I try to clear my head of thinking.

Many years ago, my brother saw some abstract paintings by a friend of mine and said “Oh those are of nothing.” I was a little put out by the remark, but now I see he was absolutely right. These are of no thing. They are exactly what they are.

See what is there.

About 27 years ago, my wife and I set out on a trip to the Twin Cities to see a friend of hers who was dying. We didn’t make it.

We drove through a blizzard.  It was difficult and stressful.  By the time we reached Duluth, we realized we couldn’t go on. We couldn’t turn around and come home, either. Defeated, we stopped and checked into a hotel. We lugged our bags up to our room, only to find that the room was occupied.  We went back down to the front desk and were assigned a different room.  We were exhausted and discouraged. That night, we had a miscarriage in the hotel room. The rest is a blur. I think we came back home the next day.

Fast forward to this weekend.

My son and I headed to Duluth on Friday for a rehearsal for a wedding on Saturday. We had reservations at the same hotel. On the drive down, I told him the story of that night almost three decades ago.

By the time we got to the hotel, we had limited time to change and get to the rehearsal. We checked in, but when we got to the room, it was occupied and we had to return to the desk.

I had a flashback.  It was like I was reliving the previous experience.

The front desk staff apologized and I said it was ok. But I wasn’t ok.

I had to put it out of my mind. I had responsibilities to attend to. Last night, I hardly slept. I just lay there, wide awake, hearing my son call out in his sleep from time to time. We have all had our own trauma.

Today was busy. We shopped, then I performed a wedding. When we got back home and Raymond went to bed, I fell apart.

I wouldn’t change things. Not much, anyway.

Now I am 61 years old, and I am still adopting children.

Tonight I had a conversation with my former wife. We’ve never talked about the lost children. We just kind of swept that under the rug. Things like that don’t go away. You don’t have to try to remember. You remember.

In some ways, I’m a different person than I was back then. I’m able to say things I couldn’t before. I’m willing to face the things that haunt me.  The things that make me who I am. There is a reason I adopt children. There is a reason I don’t want to be alone.

I am unresolved.

When these certain bubbles surface, I embrace them. I own them as I couldn’t before.  I love my life, and I like the person I have turned out to be.  It has not always been easy.

I talk about bubbles rising up from my past and surfacing.  They are missing puzzle pieces that you find right at your fingertips. They go unnoticed or unrecognized for so long and then there they are, right in front of you.