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| My mother, Carol R. Fuchs, Washington Square Village, New York, ca. 1962 |
Happy Birthday, Carol Runyan Fuchs. Today you would've turned 88 years old. Had you made it past 57 when you gave in to cancer -- just one year older than I am now.
Appropriate, I suppose, that her birthday lands on Memorial Day this year. She didn't die in battle the way one thinks of it when thinking of Memorial Day; however, anyone who has seen a loved one struggle against, and eventually succumb to cancer knows it's as painful, as traumatic as any war. Less violent, maybe, but just as heart-wrenching to watch.
And the loss is no less real.
I miss you, Mom. Thank you for your service to our family, to me personally as the man you helped me to become -- the artist, too. And thank you for continuing to serve your lineage, in the ways I pass your unique influence on to my children.
After writing this post in my journal, I was inspired to sketch a self-portrait, something I haven't done in years. I know it's not very good technically speaking. But in my mind, it's one of the finest "quick sketches" I've ever done. My mother drew in this style, and I can't help but believe I was "channeling" her somehow when I sketched it.
Appropriate, I suppose, that her birthday lands on Memorial Day this year. She didn't die in battle the way one thinks of it when thinking of Memorial Day; however, anyone who has seen a loved one struggle against, and eventually succumb to cancer knows it's as painful, as traumatic as any war. Less violent, maybe, but just as heart-wrenching to watch.
And the loss is no less real.
I miss you, Mom. Thank you for your service to our family, to me personally as the man you helped me to become -- the artist, too. And thank you for continuing to serve your lineage, in the ways I pass your unique influence on to my children.
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