Five Years

I can’t let today pass without mentioning that it is the fifth anniversary of Georg’s passing. Dad died just after midnight on September 26, 2013. I can’t believe that five years have gone by and so many things have happened to me. I lost a job, I was a substitute teacher for a little while, I published two poetry chapbooks, I went to Malawi three times and began a project to build a reading garden for children (still in progress), I got my health insurance through the marketplace for a while, I started two new jobs (one I still have), my son started college, I bought a house, and my mom and I have become housemates. After the 2016 election, the world began to turn upside down and I’m working to make sense of it all. Five years.

But that’s all about me. That’s not Georg. My sister and I never did manage to get his estate under control, and now we are dissolving the estate and going back to square one. As though, when Dad passed, we had not tried to build an empire of all the works of art that he left behind. There were too many debts against him, and we are still responsible for that. Maybe the Empire of Georg will come some other way. I don’t know what that is. I might need to let all that go. Or, I could try harder. Make him a Wikipedia page. Try to get him a gallery show. Try to sell some art. Really? Is that really my job? Maybe.

What would Georg say if he were here? He would tell me to breath and relax, go easy on myself. He would be proud and pleased. He would be in his studio, making art. He would remind me to never give up and always listen to the voice inside me, urging me to try new things, learn new things. We can’t stop trying to make a difference in this world, even when we know that the real change may not come until after we are long gone. And by then, we’ll be somewhere else, but our good energy will remain. Like Georg.

If Georg were here today, he would fry me some onions. That’s what he would do. He would remind me to stay present and to keep doing what I am doing. He would remind me to be kind to others and also to myself. Yup. Thank you, Dad.

Love you, miss you,
Lisa