Sunday, June 09, 2019
I wish I could remember the last Father's Day with my dad, any little thing he did or said – but the events that followed it have swallowed the memory. Instead, I must imagine it as a historian puzzling over the end days of a doomed village, busy in their belief that sandbags, vaccines, prayers could somehow prevent a cataclysm. I picture myself on that day decades ago, just past my teens, outmatched and unaware, sure that if I just believed it, I could keep him alive.
The day before, I must have shopped in a too-bright department store for a tie he would never wear, or a gadget that would remain in its box. I would have purchased it knowing that a wrapped-up token could not fulfill my desperate need to thank him, to apologize for being a brat, to tell him I loved him, to save him.
I did not know on that last Father's Day that a few weeks later dad would be rushed to a life-saving lung transplant, only to be denied the surgery for a host of sad reasons. Soon, I would help my mom select a polished rock to mark his brief 44 years of existence, reducing to ash a giant who couldn't possibly be dead.
Now a woman of 50, I hold onto his vanished shirttail with a grip so tight, for so long, my fingers have gone numb. I want him to tell me what to do. I want him to write a letter to me in all caps, full of his famous misspellings and all the answers. I want him to be, forever. And this is the thing about becoming fatherless, no matter our age: We walk on our own because our dads taught us how. But some days, we would rather be carried.
a day ago
I have a small collection of antique poetry books from the late 1800s that I inherited from my great grandfather. Even before I could read, the engraved illustrations of gossamer angels and tempest tossed boats drew me into a grownup world of mortality and miracles. Those images inspired this miniature scene of a tiny shipwreck about to fall upon the cliffs of an unknown land. I set the enamel into a chunky pendant and etched the bezel with the Fisherman’s Prayer: “O God, thy sea is so great and my boat is so small.” . . . “Lost at Sea”, pendant necklace. Enamel, sterling silver. Hand painted, torch fired, hand fabricated. This piece will be available in a shop update soon. Stay tuned for exact date and time. 🖤 . . Look back in my feed to see how I paint my enameled scenes using finely ground glass and water, then heat them with a torch to permanently fuse the glass to metal. . . #instajewelry #instasmithy #instasmith #silversmith #Metalsmith #goldsmith #ladysmith #RioJeweler #SNAGmember #TESmember #metalsmithing #handmadejewelry #handmade #handcraftedjewelry #contemporaryenamel #enamel #enameled #miniatures #enameljewelry #jewelryaddict #jewelrycollector #jewelryoftheday #miniature #oneofakindjewelry #contemporarycraft #artjewelry #mementomori #artisanjewelry #showmeyourjewelry