My father, a fellow artist and my mentor, began to slow down last year. I noticed it at the last art festival we did together last spring. He also began to lose his desire to create new pieces for our collections - "Just not enough energy," he often said to me when I was fired up about the next new thing he was going to do.
By late summer, we were visiting various specialists, with no real answer as to why he was losing weight and energy. As I watched him try to eat - something he loved almost as much as painting - deep down, I had a sinking feeling.
That feeling was confirmed on December 5 when he was admitted to the hospital, and the CT scans showed stage 4 metastatic lung cancer. Hospice was called in to help us. We moved him to an assisted living facility a week later, and eventually to a hospice home, where he rested peacefully for less than twelve hours before passing away in the early morning of January 28, 2024. He was just shy of his 82nd birthday.
The last few months have been rough - everywhere I look, I see remnants of his incredible talent. He wanted me to continue sharing his work with others, and I promised I would. But it feels a little empty now without our weekly "art chats".
Last month (April), I decided to return to an art show that he and I did for the past three years. Thanks to the support and love of my very small tribe, the show was a success. I took the day's proceeds and donated them to Hospice of Randolph in Dad's memory... and in appreciation of all the things he taught me in becoming my own business owner... and an artist.
This was the last good photo I took of Dad - he still had a bit of weight on him. It was early October, and we had returned home from one of our weekly doctor visits. He was deep in thought, so I just let him have his moment.
In the past few days, I've heard his voice saying, "Stop worrying about things. Just get back to business. It's time."
Thank you, Dad. I miss you, and I'm getting back to it.
