We had big plans for our kitchen. We moved into our home last fall and have made every inch of it our own- all except the kitchen which was supposed to be our winter project this year. Full gut job to replace wood paneling, cabinets, and appliances. We did so much research, shopping, picking out, planning… it’s a large room- which is perfect because that is where everyone congregates.
When Matt died, the kitchen became the least of my worries. In fact, anything that was functional became good enough for me. The things that needed attention were fixed by friends or neighbors just to keep us afloat and take those worries off of my shoulders.
I’ll spare all details, but what happened when he died started in our kitchen. It was traumatizing on every level. I’m happy to report that with help from my therapist, the trauma and flashbacks have gotten better, easier, but the kitchen can still be a trigger for me.
I decided earlier in the week that functional wasn’t good enough anymore, so I started painting. A friend said to me, ‘caulk and paint make it what it ain’t.’ So true. My Dad taught me how to paint at an early age. I’ve been painting as long as I can remember- which worked out great because Matt hated it. The reoccurring phrase in my mind this week has been, ‘my Dad taught me how to want a man, not need a man.’ There are things I need fixed- in that regard, it’s been frustrating for me because I haven’t figured out ‘how,’ but I will. Someone will teach me and I’ll know for next time.. but as a thirty-something woman and mother, I am proud to say that there are more things that I can do rather than can’t.
It’s been so rewarding seeing the transformation in the kitchen. It’s very therapeutic for me and makes me feel closer to my Dad. I can hear his voice in my mind with his little tips and tricks as I paint. I zone out and just let myself listen to whatever thoughts come to me. I paint little bits at a time because that’s what my days allow. I love seeing the boys notice the changes and can feel how proud they are of me. Painting is taking awful memories of that day and turning it into beauty, newness, and possibility.
A very important side note- I was painting the other day when I received a gift from a lifelong girlfriend- she had my first dahlia bloom printed on a canvas. It is the perfect addition to my ‘new’ kitchen and a now treasured work of art that will forever remind me that life can be beautiful again.
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