Dear Friends, as kind Liss informed you, my beloved father passed away last week after a long illness. I can't tell you how much I've appreciated not only the inimitable Daydream Lily and all the other bloggers who stepped in to keep this site going, but also all the expressions of affection and support you have left here. I feel so fortunate to be part of this wonderful community.
Before I resume regular posting next week, I want to share with all of you a few thoughts on my remarkable Dad. He was born in rolling hill country along the Kentucky-Ohio border, where his surviving sisters live still. For 35 years he worked for General Electric as an aerospace engineer. He held several important patents for his inventions, and if you've recently flown on a Boeing airliner, chances are he'd devised the engine seals that kept you airborne. He loved his family and New Mexico, where I grew up, but his private passions were painting and sculpture. My home is filled with his art and every time I look at one of his paintings or sort through his watercolor portfolios, I'm reminded of how his character combined, in equal parts, an engineer's precision and a gifted artist's sensitivity and intuitive insight.
I will miss that very much.
One of the benfits of being formally jobless during his last illness was that I enjoyed the unexpected blessing of being able to spend a great deal of time with my dad. He'd always loved our moments together and looking back at how much we both enjoyed just going out for coffee and talking,
I so wish we'd done it more.
The hours we spent together during his final year and, particularly, during this past month are something I'll treasure for as long as I live. I had that rare privilege of hearing my father assure me of his unconditional love and of his great pride in the woman I'd become. I vividly recall how my heart soared when he called my daughter Isabella, his only grandchild, "your marvelous girl." It was his last gift to me--and one of the most precious among so many.
After he died, I asked my mother for his paint brushes and I've arranged them in vases about the house, each one a flower of memory, a reminder of the gentle but skilled hand that once held it. In one of our last conversations, my father said to me, "You've always been my shining star."
I know now that, if I glitter, it is with the light he gave me.
It's raining tonight in Los Angeles and I'm trying to keep my spirits up. I snapped a few pictures of my latest decor finds: A 1950s ashtray, a colorful vintage Balinese screen, a black and white poster of a grandfather clock (with an actual clock that runs on a AA battery), more books to stuff into my giant pine armoire.
Decorating our new apartment has become my respite. Maybe it's because it's the one area of my life that I can control. I know this is going to sound very dreary, but I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed by uncertainty and sorrow. Not exactly good fodder for an inspiration blog, that's for sure.
Last summer, my dad was diagnosed as having a serious bone marrow disease. (I took some time off work to take care of him. Even though I now believe it made me an easy layoff target, I would not trade the time I spent with him for the world.)
This week doctors confirmed what we've feared for several weeks: my father now has leukemia and the prognosis is not good. He is skin and bones.
One of my well-meaning blogger friends sent me a long email this week lecturing me about my low morale. Yes, my morale is bad. This is my year of loss, I guess.
So I have a request: Does anyone out there want to guest blog here for a few weeks while I sort things out? Email me if you do :) Posts with photos of funky flea market finds are always welcome here...
UPDATE: My friend Liss at the gorgeous blog Daydream Lily has generously offered to keep things running here at the English Muse. Liss (who has been nominated for a 2010 Cosmo Woman of the Year award!) will be posting, with occasional cameos from other talented bloggers. Thank you so much for helping me out during this very difficult time! I love you. Tina
Dominique Browning, the former editor of House & Garden, wrote so beautifully in today's New York Times Magazine about her struggle to rebuild her life after Conde Nast closed the magazine in 2007. I've read a lot of layoff stories since I lost my job at the Los Angeles Times in October, but Browning's captures the pain and devastation most eloquently.
She writes: "Just because something failed doesn't mean you're a failure. Just because something has ended doesn't mean it was all a mistake. Just because you've been rejected doesn't mean you're worthless and unlovable."
I know I've been talking a lot these days about my layoff. It's weighting especially heavy on my mind because -- like Browning -- we're selling our house to start anew. This is how it goes: first you lose the job and then you lose the life.
I'm not exactly sure how my new life is going to shake out. It will be different -- and maybe even better.
It's official: our little Tudor style house is on the market.
If anyone out there is looking for a very cute place in Pasadena, maybe this is the house for you.
I would like to write a missive here about my layoff....I'm just going to say this: We spent nearly 12 happy years in this house. I'll miss the roses and the clawfoot tub.
Life goes on...
I started English Muse a little over a year ago to help deal with the sadness and hopelessness I felt watching so many of my friends lose their jobs at the Los Angeles Times. After so many years working at the paper, I felt like a refugee there, searching for a community where I belonged. I had no idea then that my friends here would be the ones who would help me the most after my own layoff from the LAT in October.
So I'm wondering, if you'll please tell me, why did you start your blog?
(Photo from Yay!Everyday)
Well there's no sense in recapping all the rotten things that happened in 2009. I'm just glad to be looking at 2010...Thank you for reading my blog. You kept me going this year. Here's to a better year for everyone!!
PS: This lovely photo is by Persisting Stars.
