It’s been quite a while since I have written for this website. Since I last posted, the world has seen changes none of us could have even imagined. So, I am going to write about loss—and the art of loss, since it is something right now we are all experiencing in some way.
2020-Covid and our loss of life as we knew it, is something we are all dealing with. Every single person in every single corner of the globe has been touched by its effects. For some, it has been devastating loss of health or life and very tragic. For most of us, it has been an intruder that has caused inconvenience, disorder and loss. Loss of movement, freedom, work and choices. And as of writing this, it continues to do so and the end game is still unknown.
2019-Hurricane Dorian was a monster that struck on September 1, 2019, and it took SO much from SO many, including myself and my family. We lost our home in Hope Town. Many say, well, it’s just a house. Yes, that’s true. Many lost not just their homes, but their businesses, boats, and tragically, many lost their lives. But among the boards, mortar and shingles are items you have collected, created and shared. Memories made. It isn’t just the physical loss—which is huge both emotionally and financially—but also the loss of the special place your family just loved to be at all together. My family had our hearts invested.
Returning to Abaco, about 6 weeks after the storm hit, was very hard. On every level. We were fortunate to be able to stay with a friend whose home survived. Damaged, but still standing. She had no power. No running water. But she was still smiling. She is a walking example of the fortitude, generosity and strength of the people who call the Family Islands home.
She was also kind enough to go with me and stay with me while I searched for something left of our house. Read that sentence again. Our small but beautiful home was erased. Not damaged to rummage through and salvage what we could. It was gone. Like many other homes in Hope Town. Although much of it ended up under water, and I had the profound experience of swimming through some remnants of my bathroom and living room, it left more questions than answers.
We walked for an hour or more, combing the beach and pile after pile of rubble, some over 2 stories high as well as homes that were laid open with walls stripped away. Some you could walk right in and sit in a chair, while others were just a bare foundation. There would be a glass vase sitting on top of a huge piece of concrete—untouched, like someone set it there—and then you would have an entire house upside down, right next to it. Your mind just can’t process the utter devastation surrounding you and then you find these delicate items left unscathed. It leaves you reeling.
She and I finally found parts of our home. It began when I spied one of our bed posts from the massive king size bed we had that was sitting, shattered, in a huge pile. As I continued to take in the pile, my eyes spotted a favourite cushion, the frame of our coffee table, and so forth. The more I started digging, the more I found. Most of it beyond salvaging, but at least it was found. Wedged in the debris was my first driftwood painting of the Hope Town Lighthouse that used to hang in our kitchen on Eagle Rock. It is scratched but its whole. I treasure it more than ever now 
If you ask my family what we miss the most physically from the house, each of us has a different answer. For my husband, it was the dining room table that was glass all over with a center we filled with glass floats and buoys we had gathered since our children were small. For me, it was some very old sea turtle shells we got from an old resort (one my husband turned into a hanging light—it was awesome!), our antique teak doors repurposed from off an old yacht and some of my original art and supplies. I make many prints and giclees, but not of everything.
One of the pieces we lost was a 6-foot-tall piece of dead tree root I painted the Hope Town lighthouse on as a gift to my son Tyler one Christmas. I don’t think even Dorian could have destroyed it, but I wonder where it lives now.
Tyler has always loved the lighthouse—and I think that love shines in his recently released documentary about it. I am putting a link here. (I even have a cameo in it about halfway through—amid the wreckage.) Please watch, enjoy and share. It is called “The Kerosene Keeper” and it is an amazing story.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygj4xHvwRgw&t=859s
I hope if you have read this far that you have not experienced too much loss–from storms, fires, life in general or Covid. I realize loss is a part of life. Sometimes, though, in sharing our loss with others, be it through words, song, images or whatever form, it makes it that much easier to deal with.