“1988 began ominously with a mini-twister wrenching a great branch off the Eucalyptus tree in the back yard. The falling branch struck the lovely oak tree nearby, planted by my dad in 1927, severing the feeder roots and killing the wonderful tree. A few months later, in June, dad passed away. At the end of July, John, both very sensitive and very creative since his mountain experience became overwhelmed by life and chose to end his own. In November mom passed away at ninety-seven.
My art became my therapy”
“At night, unable to sleep, working with pastels on newsprint, page after page, I found relief. In clay building up from a rounded form symbolizing the earth, I created flower-like forms. I then beat on them with a modified wooden baseball bat. A wonderful release!”
– Margaret Hudson
I don’t have answers
to much of anything
anymore
I walk each day
do my best
cry
why
in anguish
weep
and go on
to savor
each moment
each friendship
each flower
greet each new day with joy
mourn with friends in sorrow
don’t even try
to find answers
anymore
there just aren’t any
and somehow
somewhere
in that letting go
of the need to know
in the pain
in the deep silence
is God
