Me You All of Us

My wonderful town library had an event in conjunction with a special group at the hospital to help people process grief and to remember those who have passed on.

The library supplied bags, decorative paper punches, glue, and markers. Each person could decorate a bag to honor a specific person or persons. I drew a few things at home and brought them to glue onto my bag. One was a hairy hand with the words “I miss my dad’s touch”. Another was a drawing of a cat and a bird captioned “I miss my sister and her animals”. My dad was a hairy Italian man. When I was little I thought all grown man had hairy hands. I figured the ones that didn’t must still be too young, that they simply hadn’t gotten their hand hair yet. My sister’s middle name was Frances. She, like St. Francis, had an amazing way with animals. During the course of her life she had cats, birds, a half wolf dog, and she also raised many types of reptiles, even large ones like monitor lizards. I glued a sign to the top portion of the bag that said “I miss…”. My final illustration was a little drawing of my mother’s head with her brain exposed. This represented how I missed some of the parts of my mother’s brain that due to her dementia were no longer accessible to me. Ironically there are also other parts of my mother’s brain that I do not miss. She is less selfish, and more humble and loving than she used to be. My father not only loved me, he rescued me. My sister lived a life that taught me by example to be brave enough to be myself. I’m still learning from my mother’s past actions. Perhaps I am learning even more from her current ones. A town organization lined the main sidewalk in our little town with the bags. A small battery powered candle was placed in each one. I went out late at night to find my bag. I was raised Catholic. Though I’m now more of a Buddhist, Pagan, Jewish mix, I still remember the profound sense of connection to something larger, to something infinite whenever I would light a candle in church’s side chapel. The older I get the more connected I feel. To what was. To what I cannot see but I can feel. I live alone. I no longer have a partner, but in many ways I feel less alone than I ever have. Life, I’m discovering, is turning out to be the ultimate binge.

Cinse Bonino
2024