My husband reminded me that Gramma Moses didn’t start painting until she was in her 70’s as I was getting ready to go to my first ever watercolor painting class.

But this isn’t any ordinary class, the teacher is my 100 year old dad. My dad, Charlie Gray, has been an artist his entire life. His art has taken many forms, from his early days of carving as a young child growing up in Moncton, Canada, to producing magnificent commission pieces of art for office buildings, to his cartoons being published in several magazines including the Saturday Evening Post and The Wall Street Journal and the Christian Science Monitor, to galleries in New England and still at 100 years of age, he produces several water color paintings each week.

My dad’s an incredible person, he served in the Navy during WWII and married my mom soon after he returned. He and my mom were married for 68 years and for the last few years of mom’s life she suffered with dementia. He never left her side, he was with her 24/7 and for the last few months of her life, when he could no longer care for her at home, he was at the nursing home every single day from breakfast thru dinner. She passed on their 68 wedding anniversary.

In the years mom was sick, dad put away his paints. He took over the cooking, cleaning, shopping and served as mom’s chauffeur. Each day bringing her out to coffee shops, or lunch or just taking rides. She was his entire life.

When mom passed, dad knew he needed to get back to his art, to reconnect with his fellow artists and to rebuild his life. For some, losing your spouse at 89, would mean just surviving. But for dad, he saw it as an opportunity to begin a new chapter in his life. And begin he did.

On Mondays he started teaching a watercolor class at our church, on Tuesdays he reconnected with an art group in a neighboring town, on Wednesday he was asked to teach a watercolor class at the senior center in his town and on Thursdays he found himself the taking classes, yes he’s the oldest student, at the Worcester Art Museum.

At his recent 100th birthday celebration well over 100 people showed up to help him celebrate. Many made him a homemade card featuring their own work. He insisted that the first 100 guests would receive one of his paintings. Because, of course, he wants to share his art with everyone.

As a thank you for coming to the party we made bookmarks with Charlie’s wisdom on turning 100, things like, Accept things that are out of your Control, Find Your Passion, and my personal favorite, Find your Community and Stay Connected.

So back to me being his student for the first time in my 73 years. I have no talent for any type of painting. I think in spreadsheets, I don’t want to make a mess. But what I’ve found is that it’s not about the finished product, it’s about the community and opening yourself up to new opportunities for growth.

And so I paint, dad bought me a set of paints and a few paintbrushes, and on Monday mornings I pack up my supplies and head to class where I practice making trees and my personal favorite, clouds. Mostly I just put paint on a piece of paper, watch it drip around and have fun, it makes me happy. But most important to me is spending this precious time with my dad.

The reason I love living in New England is the distinct difference in the seasons, at the beginning of each new season I think this is my favorite because it’s hard to choose just one. I tolerate the cold and the ice and the fifth season, mud, to enjoy the spring when trees bud and bulbs pop up out of hiding, the summer sounds of kids playing in the water and the sound of the crickets and fall, with pumpkin spice coffee and the vibrant colors of the trees.

Just as there are the physical seasons of life, there are also the emotional ones. The cycle of life is rich with many milestones along the way. Just as with the physical seasons, there are the favorite milestones that bring joy and happiness and then there are the milestones that leave in their wake grief, anger and pain.

The one milestone that leaves the most grief is the loss of a loved one. In this circle of life, it’s natural to mourn the passing of grandparents and parents, this is to be expected once we reach a certain age. It’s never easy, and without regrets for how we had to say our goodbyes. Sometimes we know it’s coming we have time to prepare, to say our goodbyes, and other times it’s a phone call in the middle of the night when you least expect it.

I was ten when my favorite grandmother dropped dead at the age of 69, she hadn’t been sick and I had been with her the week before. It was a heart attack, she went quickly they said, no pain, just gone. They said I was too young to go to the wake and funeral. It was the first time I saw my dad cry, I’ll never forget the grief and pain. Even though I was only ten when she passed, I have some very vivid memories of her teaching me to bake and she was the first person to introduce me to the game of solitaire.

In this season, surrounded by the budding trees and the daffodils and hyacinths coming up through the ground, I feel an immense grief for the loss of my best friend from childhood. Susan left this earth on March 31 at age 69, not quickly, but after almost 2 years of dealing with terminal cancer. Cancer is insidious, invasive, giving and taking hope with each treatment and new miracle drug.

I’m thankful that in the fall and winter we fell into a routine where I would visit along with a few of our close friends from middle school. Each of us brought something, I brought the bagels and cream cheese, Bev brought the brownies, half cooked and gooey, the way they should be, and Marlene would bring the heathy stuff, fruit and quiche. Susan would sneak the keys to the car and drive to pick up the most amazing gourmet muffins to complete our brunch. We knew she was having a good day when she presented the muffin box.

Susan’s love language was gift giving and even though she was very sick, she never stopped making gifts. When we visited, there would be 3 bags on the counter in the kitchen each containing a wonderful handcrafted token of love.

I’m grateful for this time we spent together as friends, talking about the old days, when we walked together the 1.75 miles each day to and from school, about our shenanigans, and how they helped mold us into the adults we are today.

I’m most grateful because we had the opportunity to have the talk, the talk that no one ever wants to have, but the talk everyone should have with their loved ones, the talk where we freely express our love for one another and acknowledge how much our friendship has meant. This is the gift I will always treasure from our friendship. And I’m grateful I was with her and her family during the last few days of her life. I know she knew I was there, sometimes she could squeeze my hand or try to smile.

At her funeral there was a very large basket of flower seeds, Susan was also a master gardener, she had the ability to transform any space into a thing of beauty. And it was fitting for her, even at the end, to make sure everyone left with a gift from her.

I will plant Susan’s seeds and she will always live on in my heart. I will feel her spirit when I see Hydrangeas in bloom, catch a whiff of her signature Shalimar or walk along the beach. Rest my dear friend, until we meet again…..

We received word this weekend that my 41 year old son-in-law was found dead from a suspected overdose. Receiving that phone call and listening to the heart wrenching screams from my daughter was hard, very hard. But the reality is this, when there is active addiction in a family, every time you answer the phone, on some level, this is your greatest fear.

How it happened at this point is irrelevant, but what brought him to leave this earth at the young age of 41 is most likely the story you’d would expect. Suffice to say he endured a traumatic childhood full of stuff no child should have to endure. He most likely tried to get through the storms by self medicating, probably first with a little pot, then some pills and then the heavy stuff that the toxicology report will contain.

He was a part of our life for almost twenty years and in that time we saw the very best of him and the very worst. For the few years he and my daughter lived with us, he tried to be helpful, he liked to mow the grass on the riding lawnmower, cigarette in one hand, his signature Mountain Dew in the other.

But there was also the other side, the side where we suspected he was using, late night runs, things around the house that would turn up missing, always explained in a way that would arose our suspicions, but never in a way that would lead to an out and out confrontation. People who live with addictions in their families can relate.

When his son was born, he held it together, he worked hard to help our daughter get through school and for a brief period of time, we thought all was well, we were hopeful that this precious baby would be the reason he would stop. But that wasn’t to be.

Instead, overtime the addiction won, even with multiple times in rehab, each time leaving with a renewed sense of hope, it was only a matter of time that his body would crave more and he found himself falling prey to the desire.

There is such a stigma with addiction, the words people use, loser, druggie, why can’t they just stop, they got what they deserve, and on and on. Addiction is a disease, it’s been proven that there are actually changes in the brain and for so many addicts, as much as they want to stop, they just can’t. And for many, they have burned every bridge with every loved one which in turn makes it difficult for those left behind to figure out how to grieve, was there something they could have done to prevent their loved one from looking for that last high?

Today it was announced that over 100,000 people died this past year of overdoses, this is a staggering number and for every victim there is a ripple effect, wives, children, brothers, nieces, nephews, everyone in the family is touched in some way.

In the end, I believe that he deserved better, that perhaps with the right therapy or a comprehensive long term rehab program, he could have made it in recovery and instead of his son visiting him at the Funeral Home this weekend, he and his son would be shopping together for the Thanksgiving Turkey.

A few years ago my daughter gave me a beautiful personalized journal…..It came complete with color coded stickers and a lovely laminated cover. It was so beautiful that I thought I would ruin it by writing in it, so after looking at it for a few days, then thinking about what I would write, then going to Pinterest to check out how everyone else was using journals, I put it away in a safe place. And there it stayed until I stumbled across it a few days ago while putting away some books.

As I look around my house I see many things we never use. Top on the list is the collection of crystal glasses that each year I pull out of the china cabinet, wash, and put back. I can’t recall using the brandy glasses since my scotch phase several years ago. We have on a few occasions used the delicate etched glass ice tea glasses, but I have to say I never really enjoy using them because I am afraid they will shatter when they are washed. We finally gave up on the crystal matching wine glasses after so many broke and left us with a crazy assortment of glasses from wine tasting tours.

When we were first married, we had a group of 12 completely mismatched everyday glasses, no two matched. We would joke and say that our glass collection represented the different phases in our lives. The lone survivors of the matched sets, the sturdy ones that weathered all the storms. And even with all the mismatched everyday glasses, I never once thought to set our everyday table with the good glasses.

And the glasses are just one thing I save for best, let’s not even get started with the good china, the good platters, the good candles, the good linens, the good purse, the good sweater…. we all have our lists, they are endless.

According to all the health experts the next few months of this pandemic will be difficult at best. So what better time to use all the good stuff?

May this New Year bring you good health, joy, peace and love.