Numbering your days: How grief paints a new perspective on life

I was visiting a friend’s parish for the first time to view a painting his wife, Catherine, made. When he was describing the larger-than-life painting that was a life-size mural of Jesus reaching out his hand with water flowing down that connected to the woman in the well…well, it was easy for me to realize I must see this painting. 

Turns out, the whole parish had frescoes of all the saints, hence All Saints Church, and the ceiling was this deep, royal blue with golden stars across. Breathtaking. 

My friend said his wife’s painting was in the section where they do the sacrament of reconciliation that doubles up as the cry room. I found the painting once I entered the church. I will do my best to give the description justice, but imagine looking at the sky when it’s close to sunset and the sky grasps new hues like hazy pinks and light blues, you know the ones that are so hypnotizing, like God the artist Himself just dashing colors on the clouds. Then in the painting’s distance was a shining sun, just mesmerizing. 

The best way I can see a similarity is with the Spanish Surrealist artist, Salvador Dalí, whose 1931 masterpiece, The Persistence of Memory, features soft, melting pocket watches in a dreamlike landscape symbolizing the fluidity of time. 

Yes, Catherine’s landscapes were so dreamy and soft! It was my main focal point even though the image of Jesus standing in a white robe with water flowing out of his right hand where he was pierced, yet the water looked like it was illuminated by a radiance that’s out of this world.

I will admit, and maybe this was the point of the artist’s depiction of Jesus, but his eyes had me in a trance. I was scared to stare into them, honestly! I had to look back at the sky at times but the eyes were just staring into your soul it felt like.

I wanted a closer look at the painting and the only way I could get a closer look was to sit down with the priest and do confession. I prepared myself and it turns out, it was a wonderful confession! I don’t always say that. 

That allowed me to sit down in silence and just reflect while being surrounded by lovely art all around. Even the altar had a beautiful depiction of Jesus and God as a painting, which looked like they were floating in the galaxy, next to constellations and celestial objects. Art everywhere I looked.

Sitting in such a space inspired my own creative thoughts. One of the many things grief and loss has taught me is the fluidity of time. I often think to myself now how much time will pass, in the best hypothetical situation, before I pass and reunite with my daughter. In my head, that’s give or take 60 years maximum, only God knows. So I think, wow, 60 years is really not a long time, but also is a really long time.

But in those 60 years so much can happen! So much can change in just one year. It makes me think of what all I can dream, do or experience in six decades. 

It’s a lesson for all of us to take that leap of faith, do the things we’re afraid to do, explore the places we’ve never seen, forgive that person, heal, grow and evolve. 

Persistence in memory

My mind then jumped to my daughter and I’s actual reunion in heaven. I don’t assume I will enter the pearly gates automatically, the sinner that I am, but that is my hope. I must use my gifts, my talents, my life essentially, and be a reflection of Love. That is my ticket. But not the full picture for I am limited in scope. Mother Mary’s ‘yes’ and Jesus’ sacrificial love on the cross actually earned all our tickets. I just try to do my part. 

Back to the reunion—I wonder how much time would have passed. Would my daughter be a 60-year-old? Would she still be an infant? Do you ever wonder about your loved ones who have gone before us? I think about my daughter’s precious little fingers, little toes and little body. I can’t wait to touch them again. 

Then I thought, maybe time is so fluid. Maybe 60 years was just 60 seconds in heaven’s timeline. I’ve heard a million times that the Church sees time in eternity, things take time. Then I’ve heard that 1,000 years is just 1 second with the Creator of the Universe. I don’t know what heaven will be like, if time will exist. The promise I hold onto, and that has changed my perspective on life, is to not take it for granted. One day at a time.