Laughing In The “Rain” With My “Umbrellas”

Last weekend, I hosted a Paint Party at our house for eight of us.  The painting I chose was an abstract called “Rain” by Olha Vyacheslavovna Darchuk, a Ukrainian artist.  The painting depicts a sea of brightly colored umbrellas on a dreary and hazy background.  The people are shapeless and nameless.  I fell in love with this painting immediately, so I had to choose it.  The painting spoke to me in the very depths of my soul.

See… I’ve written before about friendships and changing relationships in the aftermath of Grubby’s suicide.  Only one of the people at my house last weekend had ever been to a Paint Night with me, and that one was because it was a happy picture, but those who were here last weekend are the people who have been some of my brightest spots over the past 18 months.  They were also, largely, Grubby’s people until they became my people after his death.  They have been the ones who have sheltered me from life’s storms over the past 18 months.  They have been my “umbrellas”. 

We had a night filled with laughter and love, a night filled with memories and creating new memories.  Abby covered herself in paint (yes, my child is a mess – she had more paint on herself than on her canvas!), Autumn got embarrassed at some of the conversations, and I found my laugh for a few minutes. 

Those who know me well know that I have a laugh that sounds like a barnyard…  donkeys braying, pigs snorting, and occasionally the cackle of a chicken.  For many years, I had lost that laugh.  During the worst of my drinking, I did not really laugh much.  Only the people I was closest to had ever heard that laugh.  My drinking killed that part of me for a long time.  Once I stopped drinking, I began to laugh more, and eventually, most people who knew me at all knew what my real laugh sounded like.  It was one of the things Grubby loved most about me, I think.  Whether or not that’s true, I don’t know, but I do know that he LOVED to tease me about it, and he would imitate it every chance he could.  Of course, this just meant that I laughed even more because he sounded so ridiculous!  Surely, I didn’t sound that ridiculous, or did I?  Well, no matter, because when I laughed, people around me laughed – some with me, some at me – but they laughed.  My laugh disappeared the day Grubby took his life… except on rare occasions. 

Last weekend, while recounting the story of how I had plotted to kill Sherrie (metaphorically, NOT literally!!!) before I met her, the laugh came out again.  The lights flickered, and in that moment, I knew that Grubby was here – a spirit surrounding us all and sheltering us all from the pain of his loss.  I also knew, somehow, that he was happy and at peace, that he was probably imitating me in the spirit realm, and that, with my “umbrellas”, my life would always have some brightness even on the darkest days… and that I would laugh again.