Bio-Art

drawing above of my mom by my dad in 1968, 2 years before i was born.

bio-dad. man of mystery. guy liked living on the outside, did not want in. he told me this. it was clear and i respected it.

he died in Louisiana unexpectedly two years ago in one month. his friend found him dead in bed. he'd been clean for two years but the kitchen was filled with beer cans. the friend had seen him that morning and there had been no beer in sight. he did this in the evening. then he turned a fan on and got in bed. he died in the night. i'm glad he got to feel drunk and happy one last time even though it really meant...the last time.

his stuff was shipped to me by the friend. everything big like his tv and car were donated to a local charity at her suggestion and my blessing.

i kept thinking i'd go and throw his ashes into the Mississippi River, on which banks he grew up and died on. time passed. his ashes sat in my cousin's garage. it freaked her out. it took me a year to realize i was not going south to throw ashes into a river. bio-dad was dead. it was over. no need to bring it up again and get sad again and feel the pain again for no reason.

my cousin shipped the ashes to me about six months ago. i guess, i don't know. they sit in a faux-marble, hideous, cinder block style urn on top of a very tall bookcase in the great room.

right after he died, his friend sent me a small box of stuff that was of no meaning to anyone but me possibly. bills, letters, postcards i had sent him, photos of his cat, some drawings, a painting, a cd of "The Ratpack." when guy encouraged the opening of the box, i wasn't ready.

now, two years later, i am. and i went through it and i found these beautiful brushes, pretty untarnished due to his clean acrylic painting. i use oils, my brushes are worn. but his barely-used brushes are soft and perfect for my work. this is surprising. his friend wrapped them for shipping as she found them: in a bumble bee mug.


god, i miss him.