Since Ben's eleven hour surgery started, I have been applying paint to this canvas. He has survived with indomitable strength and will. Even though the surgery is over, and was successful, Ben still has to push through pain and healing and wait for further tests, more chemo, and radiation to be at rest.
Sometimes when I paint it is in a form of prayer to God. I call on angels to watch over Ben and his doctors, and picture green healing wings. From my vantage point in Miami I am surrounded by a regular pandemonium of parakeets. It seemed natural to see Ben in the birds. The palm fronds could be angel wings. Among the stack of debris at Ben's feet are the letters to "HOPE" which Ben clings to, and the exercise weights that define his determination, the doctors in masks to represent the medical theater he exists in, the skeletons to remind us of our bare bones and fragility and the colors of life. The clouds above his head have a silver lining, like all tragic moments must eventually reveal. I am so grateful for Ben's spirit, his capacity for joy and his parents nurturing care. My paint strokes, and my prayers overflow the edges of the canvas.