It is a new year, Dad. It is 2014, a year that you did not get to see. At least not the way I am seeing it. You might be seeing it from a very different place. I like to think so. Come to think of it, you were always seeing this world from a unique place, from your artist place.
As a little boy, you stood next to your mother for hours in the Greek church and stared at the icons through the smell of frankincense and myrrh. Those icon paintings eventually found their way into your art many years later.
Similarly, one day when you were just six years old, you got to go on a field trip to the Detroit Institute of Arts with your class, and you got to see an artist paint a blue jay right before your very eyes. From that moment on, you knew you wanted to be that kind of magician, making beauty from shapes, lines, and colors. You made many blue jay-inspired images in your life.
Today, it is the beginning of a new year. Everyone around me is saying 2014 is going to be a year of Light and love and good surprises, of true new beginnings. I would have to say, I am ready, Dad. I am going to say something a little strange, or maybe not. As I move forward, I am going to ask you for your help. I know you are not really here here, and I will never hear the sound of your voice again or see you laughing in the kitchen over the cutting board, chopping onions to concoct a fabulous meal. However.
You are so deeply ingrained in me, that I know I can turn to the “Georg inside me” any time and ask you what you think about something or other, and you will tell me. You will tell me when I am doing something right, and when I might not want to go down a certain road. You will tell me always that you are proud of me, so now, I will be proud of me in your stead. And, every time you ever saw me, you told me I looked beautiful. I am going to carry that around with me more consciously now. I will stop looking for the world to validate me. I will let you validate me from the inside out.
I’m sorry that you had to die in order for me to gain this gift. But, be that as it may. It is your gift to me, and I accept it. Thank you, Georg. Dad. Happy 2014. You will always be the best.
And because this is not just about only you and me, let us wish everyone who is reading this post and everyone who is not, but who we love and care about, a very joyful and prosperous 2014. For everyone. Everyone.