Signs of Flight

Since Drew was a helicopter pilot, helicopters and anything to do with flying are always the biggest signs I get from him. I even found a tiny toy helicopter in this shack on the island of Barbados last spring while vacationing there with his family. It had washed up on the beach and the guy collected it to sell in his shop. No joke!

And just a few months after he died, in the fall of 2012, I stumbled upon this artist's creative business e-workshop that was called "Flying Lessons". Drew was also a flight instructor, so it was all too obvious that he was telling me something. I signed up immediately. The Facebook group for the course truly carried me through those early months. Because of the theme of the class, all the women in the group would write cheesy encouragements to each other like "keep flying!" or "I'll see you up in the clouds!". It always made me smile, and confirmed he lead me there for a reason.

All things flight definitely seem to follow me around now, but it's been a while since I've had any signs that made me stop in my tracks. Until yesterday…

I was tinkering away on a new sculpture at a local clay studio I just started working with. It was midday and pretty cold, so the place was empty. After about an hour, I took a break to take some process photos of my work, and as I framed the picture, I noticed something written on the worktable just a foot above where I was working. As I read it, I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped to the floor…

I was speechless. For those who aren't aware, Drew died in a helicopter crash. Of all the places for this message to be… on the work table in a clay studio??? In front of the exact woman who's fiancé had died flying? And it wasn't even the spot I usually work at. Because it was so cold out, the owner told me to work in that corner because it was the warmest spot in the studio. So I took his suggestion and moved there. For about 20 minutes after reading it, I just sat there totally stunned. I kept looking around the room - my mind saying a bit humorously, "Are you SURE you're dead?!?". When I first read it, of course my interpretation was something like "flying is pointless unless you die doing it". Well, what a totally demented and Drew-like thing to say, lol. Of course as I sat with it longer, I realized it was really talking about living life. If you don't die really living life, then what's the point of living? Damn. That's SO HIM to say. And SO how he lived his life. 

I realize someone else's hand wrote that message - but somehow, that message found its way to me… in the far corner of an art studio an hour from where I live, out on a 20 acre ranch that I'd have never even known about if it wasn't for Drew's mom having taken classes there and introducing me to the owners.

For me, it is a sign to keep doing the things that make me feel alive. To keep taking big chances and doing things that maybe totally scare me, just to see where they take me. It is definitely the sort of advice he would always give me. And what's also crazy, is that I had that exact talk with my counselor a few weeks ago. I've been in a real slump since my job ended a month ago, and he recommended I focus on things that make me feel alive - not happy - but ALIVE… which is somehow way easier to focus on in the midst of grief than the idea of "happy". There isn't much that makes me feel truly happy since he died, but there are lots of things that make me feel alive. That I can do… in fact,  that was the reason for going to the clay studio to begin with. Man, you can't make this stuff up!

And then of course today I am promptly slapped in the face with an opportunity to leap into the air and try to test this message out: A job opening to teach art lessons to a young boy. I have no experience teaching AT ALL and am completely terrified of stepping this far out of my comfort zone. Despite that, I cannot stop thinking about how much I want to share art - my deepest passion - with other people. So, I guess I'm gonna listen to the writing on the table… here's hoping I fly.

Taking Chances on Life

I've had a particularly hard couple of weeks lately. Not only has there been Christmas and the 18 month mark since he died, but throw in a trip to Dallas where we lived together, his younger brother graduating from college, my idiotic attempt to start a pretty strict new diet and workout regimen (beginning a week before Thanksgiving, really Sarah??) and the still impending nerviness of the gallery I work at closing in just 2 weeks... and it's no wonder I've had a total and complete meltdown. 

I went out with a girlfriend last night just to get out of my head for a little while. We ended up at a country concert. Drew and I used to go to tons of concerts together. While they have become easier for me to go to this year, my emotions were high last night, which left me really nervous.

I'm sure you all know what I'm talking about... there are just those times in this whole experiencing death thing where you feel really frail and worried as to whether you can handle social situations. I thought going out to a bar and having some drinks might not be the best idea given how emotional I was feeling (crying almost all day for several days pretty much describes it). But, then again, it also couldn't be the worst either. The way I figured, I had sure as hell sat in my own head for long enough and that didn't seem to be helping a damn thing, so I might as well try having a life for a night.

To my surprise, we ended up having a blast... dancing and singing and laughing for hours followed by a bit of crying and heartfelt conversation over hamburgers and fries at 2am. I didn't get home until after 3am. I honestly can't remember the last time I did that. And even though I'd rather have been curled up in bed with the love of my life… I got to spend some really special time and made a great new memory with one of my oldest friends.  

I *may* be a little hungover this morning, but you know what? It was worth it. It was worth it to dance the night away and not focus on the pain for just a few hours. It was worth it just to freakin LIVE a little. I realized last night that sometimes I'm not as fragile as I fear I am… and that within me is still a desire to seize the moments of life and seek adventures. Not only did I have fun at that concert, I lived and breathed and screamed and danced and laughed and cried and hugged and sang my heart out like it was my last night on earth. I was wide open to life and it felt great. 

At times, when the pain is so incredibly deep, I feel like it can be so easy to forget that today is a day to be lived… should I choose to do so. Shaking things up last night and doing something spontaneous reminded me that sometimes I do need to make that choice. It also reminded me of the girl he fell in love with… the one who appreciated and lived deeply, who could find something to be grateful for even in the worst of situations. It was nice to see that girl again… the girl who believes that no matter how difficult a day may start out, there is always - each day - the potential for something really meaningful (and maybe even incredible) to happen.