What You'll Find Here

I post daily (photos of my journal pages, things that inspire me and personal bits and pieces) to inspire and encourage others. I have always believed that if I can do it, so can you.

You'll find resources (my favorite supplies, books, slideshows of my art journal pages, favorite bloggers, etc...) listed along the right hand side of my blog.

I've been teaching both in person and online workshops for more than twenty years. You can find out more about my classes by scrolling down along the right hand side of my blog. I strive to make classes accessible to everyone (both beginner to advanced).

I love teaching and truly believe that deep down inside everyone is an artist, capable of creating something. There is power and knowledge in the act of creating something with your own hands, made from your own heart and head.

If you have any questions, please feel free to email me at EGorey99@sbcglobal.net

Thanks for stopping by!


Friday, November 02, 2012

11 September 2012 Journal Page

Funny how some things can be a gift and yet break your heart at the same time. 

I have a collection of voice mail messages on my phone dating back to 2004. Most of them are of Tristan with his little boy voice:

"Hello. We don't know where the pancake mix is." 


"Hewwo. We're at the place where we played gowf. I won a bunch of tickets to get a toy. See you later! Love you!" 

Or David telling me he was going to bed and that he loved me. My sister singing (to be used for blackmail when I need it) or the other message about her telling me that Tristan had a good day mowing the lawn and that she was about to have him start cleaning the kitchen next. Birthday wishes from my Mom. A hello from my Aunt Sis. Twenty four messages and the phone only holds twenty five so I tend to delete all of the new messages, saving the old ones.

Then the two messages that I listened to today. My Dad. I haven't heard his voice in awhile. The first time (since the evening of June 8th) was a couple of weeks ago when I visited with my Dad's friend, Tom, in San Jose. He played the message of my Dad that he had on his phone. It made my heart hurt.

I miss that voice. I miss those calls. I miss the daily "Hi! What are you doing?" that used to bug the hell out of me (never a "how are you?" but always "what are you doing?") Never realizing that the "What are you doing?" was his way of asking "how are you?" Always knowing deep down that there would be a day when the phone calls stopped and my heart would break. Never thinking that the day would come so damn soon.

The messages were typical of my Father. The first was him singing Happy Birthday to me. The second was a message for Tristan talking about how Tristan had left a song for him on his voice mail and that he had a song for Tristan. He started singing "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" and he was laughing at the end. I miss that laugh.

November 1st into November 2nd is Dia de Los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. A time to celebrate and remember loved ones who have died. I don't need just two days. I'm remembering my Dad every single day. It's the little things that add up: his hat hung on a hook by my front door, one of his cds (Dean Martin) playing in my cd player, his briefcase in my living room, a remark by Tristan that makes me think of my Dad, a visit to the local bookstore wandering around with my phone in my hand still waiting for it to ring (he always had a tendency to catch me whenever I was in that bookstore) and it remains silent, a trip to the movies and wanting to tell Dad that he'd like to see it, a trip past Wilshire Blvd making me think of the first time my parents visited and my Dad called it Will-Shire. All of it adds up. 

I can't do any of these things. I can't pick up the phone and talk to him. I can't hold his hand. I can't share a joke with him. I can't vent to him. I can't complain about how goddamn loud the television set was in the background. Instead, I journal. I pick up my books and fill my pages with whatever is on my mind. I have photos. I have videos. I have two voicemail messages. I have memories, lots and lots of memories. I have journal pages full of memories, longings, rants, sobs and love. At least I have a safe place to hold all of these thoughts. 

Funny how one can be sad and yet grateful at the same time. 

This isn't the post I sent out to write but like life, it is what it is. Thanks for journeying along with me. My posts aren't to discourage or to bring folks down. My hopes are that my posts about what I'm going through may help someone else to crack open their journals and explore whatever is in their heads. It's nice to be able to get it out of your head to document, reflect and process all of the stuff that's swirling around up there. I'm thankful for my books and the gifts that they give me even when I'm working through hard times. At least I know, I'm not alone.


irene said...

hi kelly, i am moved by your words, your honesty and you being you. hugs, irene

Tricia said...

Thank you for sharing your life with us Kelly.... and do know that it helps others <3 Big Hugs

Cheryl said...

Thank you Kelly. I just finished some ranting of my own, listening to Mozart, and thinking of how I brought my son and his 2 half sisters and 1 half brother together on the 26th anniversary of their father's death. I'm so happy for them and so sad for myself. Momma said there'd be days like this...

Kathy, PaperPumpkin said...

During these heavy emotional times...remember...moment to moment. Hugs. ~kath. PS. My dad pops up in an occasional old video and I hear his laugh and see his face...

laurie said...

i have a phone message from my little niece that is about a year old. even though my phone makes me resave it every three weeks, i just can't bear to hit delete.

sharon said...

A beautiful post Kelly, very real and raw. I so want to take your advice, about the writing and journaling. I can make art, and journal, but find it too difficult to write words. I am still working on that.

Indigene Theresa said...

It's been a year since my Mom left and it still hurts like hell! So I truly understand what you mean. I have her voice mail messages, too! I play them at least once a week, because I miss her so much. So thank you for sharing your feelings, it's not depressing, it's life...real life and that takes others to get us through it. Sending you precious hugs.

Trece said...

No matter how much it hurts - and I DO hear you, that it's awful - you loved your dad, and he loved you. You have so many wonderful memories, and David and Tristan loved him, too.
My father died last December. My reaction to hearing the news was, "I am finally free!" My father was an abusive narcissist and I don't have happy memories. In my eyes, despite your pain, you are blessed.

mpkibs said...

Hi Kelly, I love reading your post. I am so sorry for your loss. My Mom is 88 and I just got to move close to her- 1 1/2 hrs away for the first time in 30+years. I know I am hear for a reason. I dread the day it finally happens that I will loose her too. I am struggling with her issues and reading your post help me to put things into perspective and cherish the time I have with her. Thanks for sharing all you do!

Karen Provost said...

I too have a voice message from my mom on my answering machine for the past 2 years since she died. I listen to it every so often, it's make-believe that she's still here.

crimsoncat05 said...

I've just been catching up on your blog posts, and hadn't read this one before-- (((((HUGS)))))

Keep posting!! It IS life- good and bad- and we all need to see that our journals are a place to put all that stuff for safe-keeping of ourselves and our feelings, not just a place to make 'pretty' pictures.