Mardi Gras was not the same without you. I went to parades, I spent time with friends, I costumed, sort of, and went to the Quarter for Fat Tuesday, but I don't think it felt real. I stood and watched the St.Ann parade without really being a part of it, which is not an easy thing to do. It was beautiful and colorful and wild as usual, but it was like watching a movie for me. I was afraid to even think about you, knowing the first thought would open me like a river. You loved it all, the crazy freedom of a day devoted to joy and release. Mardi Gras missed you this year.
Strangely, I find things not real and too real.
I wake up in the morning with the day before me like a great sheet of white paper. It can be terrifying or exciting, regardless,it compels me to get out of bed. I spend the day trying to figure out who I am now. It's been so long since I was Cathy Rose, artist, or Cathy Rose, medically uninformed person, or Cathy Rose, normal routine person. The nature of your illness changed every aspect of our daily lives. I don't remember who I was before we were turned upside down, but it dosen't matter because I am no longer that person anyway. I've been changed and now my own skin is no longer familiar or comforting. So, propelled by my fear of being stuck in this purgatory of the unknown I get up each morning to make coffee, feed the cat and figure out who I can be now that I'm no longer me.
The white paper comes with a large eraser, thank heavens.
Sam and I hung the sign for the gallery yesterday. Just another stroke of the pencil on that paper.