Yes, yes, I know. This says February self-portrait. And it’s March. But we’ve already established WHY I’m late to this one, yeah? It’s in the title, after all….
While February is a month that winds up in the slush pile of a lot of people’s calendars, it’s always been a bright spot to winter for me. It’s the month of funny groundhogs and sweet valentines and my birthday. And, it’s only 28 days long. This month of this year, I turned 29. But I left February and entered March feeling a few years older than that. My grandmother’s passing just took the wind out of my sails. She was 92 and, as far as we knew up until the new year, had fooled us into believing she was fit as a fiddle. But we’d started to see the signs—weight loss over the past few months, a pallor about her that wasn’t there over the summer, the way she seemed to be reminding us of how much she loved us all with extra-long hugs. I know, in her heart, she knew what was happening. When I saw her at Christmas, did I know it was the last time I’d see her alive? No. Had it been, I would have never left her side.
It tore me up to be out in Vegas when she passed. I had plans to see her that weekend upon my return. I thought she had a few weeks yet to live. Never did I imagine it was only a few days. Grief is such an ugly companion. It was my partner for much of this month as I went through the emotional rollercoaster with my family of phone calls to check in about her progress, hearing the updates about her steady decline. I had constant headaches at times — the kind brought on by trying to hold all of the tears and the sorrow in.
There were bright spots to this month — in between the ice storms and the gravity of loss there was the completion of a big personal project (I’m teaching a few tutorials on Photoshop and InDesign this year at Ball State, so finishing those up was like the proverbial albatross loosening from around my neck). The finishing of a giant classic that had been on my to-read list for years. A birthday filled with sweet gifts from friends and family (and a rad new Fossil purse from my loving husband). And, finally, a trip to a new place, to meet so many incredible people I’d wanted to meet for so long, where I got to learn more about doing a craft I truly love.
I shot this month’s self-portrait the afternoon before I left Las Vegas. My roommates and I had driven out to Red Rock Canyon outside of the city, to play around, shoot a bit, just to, well, see daylight after being stuck in the dark recesses of conference rooms for the past 24 hours. I had the image in mind of what I wanted — a frame that would convey how small I felt out there on this trip. How small I felt as a result of what I was going through with the news of my family’s loss so raw on my heart. And this became that one shot, with me nailing it on the first try. Do you see that rainbow in the left side of the image? It might just be me imagining that it’s there, but that’s OK. ‘Cause it’ll be me imagining that its presence is my grandmother in the picture with me too.
And finally, to end on a poem I found this week while indulging in my daily dose of “Writer’s Alamanac”. It felt like a fitting read to end the month on:
“Gone”
by Ronald Wallace
The sorrow one feels after the loss
of a father, a daughter, a wife
is so intense it takes up residence in the soul’s house
shares its pain with a dailiness that can seem unbearable
as you go through the mundane acts that keep you human
the little rituals that keep complete numbness at bay.
God knows you wish you hadn’t had to take in this unwelcome boarder,
wish you could send him away
and gain back your composure.
And then, the sorrow goes.
See more of Gail’s work at www.gailwernerphoto.com. Become a fan of Gail’s work on Facebook. Follow Gail on Twitter.
by Gail Werner
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