Today, this Thanksgiving Day, November 23, 2023 marks the 46th year of my brother Rodney’s departure from this life. He would have been 50 years old this past November 1, all saints day. I was age 13 at this time, just barely a teenager in 8th grade and his loss was profound and devasting. But, don’t run-a-way quite yet, for this is more than a story of grief, its also a story of triumph and the influences, the fleeting moments of our lives that define us, compel us, direct us toward the pathways of our lives.
The past several years, there’s been an inordinate amount of emotional turmoil and triggers, causing me to say out loud on more then a few occasions, “This is what my childhood was like and it never stopped.” In recent years , in counselling I discovered that I have and suffer from PTSD for most of my life…Well talk about triggers, yes indeed. But, again, I’ll save those details and story for another time. Perhaps, if not likely in an autobiography posthumously. But, today, this story is about a lifetime of me discovering the healing powers of the arts, whether it be music, poetry, writing, dance, theater, sculpting, painting or other artistic outlets out there. Create, it’s a choice.
As I’ve already said, Rodney’s passing hit me hard as I was just a child myself. Over the past months I’ve had reason & occasion to be reconnected with family memorabilia from my past, most of which I hadn’t seen and some hadn’t remembered in over 35 years. There were stacks and stacks of photo albums, a drawing I had done in 78’ and given my mother in 79’, a grandparents, Sperry family Bible that had recorded the births & deaths of family members. Plus other assorted odds and ends…dads coin collections, mom’s rose pattern fine China that served family & friends, at grand parties & events, for decades upon decades. Yes, indeed, it was overwhelming as the memories came flooding back.
As if the family Bible wasn’t enough, marking Rodney’s, birth & death dates. The photos, yes, there he was like memories, validated. Memories & photographs come to life. Sometimes I find myself talking about my brother in memory flashes. One such is where I’m holding him, helping him pet our childhood pup Hardy. It always made Rodney smile & giggle, and there it was a photo, not 1 but 2 taken a year and a half apart showing this strong joyous memory, verified. Then another I hadn’t remembered at all, me at 11 or 12 years old , holding my brother about 3, on my shoulders. Well yes, it brought more then a few tears to my eyes as I acknowledged, yes this is exactly how I felt, now as then, about Rodney, ‘he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother’…The photos went on and on and I saw Rodney being held and loved by family members & friends, when I see and think, ‘Everybody loved Rodney’. Then my sisters says, ”Don’t cry,” as she pulls a drawing I drew of him, when I was 13-14 years old, and about a year after his passing then gave to my mother, one Valentines Day thereafter. The drawing was all eyes to brain to hand…no grids or mechanical methods were used to reproduce his likeness from the photograph, just a sketch pad piece of paper & a HB pencil, plus my early artistic license & emotion are added, to capture & convey his essence & my love for my brother
So, it’s with this discovery that my story ends and begins. In my grief, I tried to funnel my feelings into a creative expression. Of course, at the time I had no idea that was what I was doing, but in hindsight, I see and realize I had been trying to do that prior to this occasion and all along. (*when my sister, Baby Diane had passed on, at 4 months of age, me about 5 and remember clearly, then soon after in a grade school classroom art project, we were to make an Easter basket out of colored construction paper and put your family names on the eggs. I of course added Diane posthumously.) I’ve come to understand and the realization that we never get over the grief of losing a loved one. We merely learn to live with it and hopefully put it in a treasured place where the love is protected and if we’re able, to turn it into an expression of that love to be given freely to other’s. I’ve repeatedly stated to most when asked and speaking about my artwork, that its emotive based & therapeutic for me. As an adult and recently, when, what felt and enormous stress, planned and started the day by doing an abstract artwork, to workout some of my emotions out on canvas, knowing fully it would help, it did for that day, maybe several others afterward. Like I’ve stated & written, my artwork is an autobiographical, a chronology of happenings. Apparently I need lots of therapy, ha.
I remember Rodney R. Sperry, born 11-1-73 - passed 11-23-77:
My brother had Cerebral Palsy and some other physical challenges. Having lots of friends & a large extended family, growing up it seemed that he brought out the best in people and that we were always surrounded by family, friends with an unwavering love. His smile lit up the world, mine for sure, still does.
Today I'm grateful he was part of my life and for all the lessons he taught me in his short time here on earth. I’m also, thankful for all the people and lives that have been in mine, hope they all know how very much they mean to me & that they are loved, more so, that they are part of my thoughts, heart, & artistic expressions, always.
And lets face it, like Harvey Fierstien, as Arnold said in Torch Song Trilogy,” It's easier to love someone who's dead. They make so few mistakes.”
(*With these things in mind, I also immerse myself in many of the other arts and feel strongly that it needs to be advocated for and implemented in our schools if for no other reason but to help people balance their lives out with a constructive creative emotional outlet, in the context of life’s harsh realities.)
Thankful for you & grateful for the shared fleeting moments that we move through each others lives.
As always your thoughts & questions are welcome,
Richard
Rodney Sperry, my brother
HEROES, just for one day. Brothers