A week from today, Eddie will check into the hospital to begin the process of a bone marrow transplant.
He’s been taking care of “his affairs.” Not settling them, exactly. Just tending to them with more intention than usual. The transplant could go well, or it could go not-so-well. I try not to dwell on the not-so-well part too much, but Eddie spends a lot of time each day considering it, figuring out what needs to be done now in case the not-so-well part wins out.
I’ve been awestruck watching him be so diligent and so brave.
Steady Eddie, aka Eagle Eye Eddie, has lived his life with chronic disease (unrelated to his recent diagnosis of Acute Myeloid Leukemia). One of the survival skills he’s adapted is the ability to figure out what’s coming next. He’s one of those people who prefers knowing what lies ahead, no surprises please. For example, if I’m calling out directions from the passenger seat of our car, he’s not satisfied with turn left at the next light. He needs turn left at the next light and then turn right just after the railroad tracks. I think this mindset, which is quite different from my own, gives him a sense of control. That’s important when you can’t always rely on your body to do what’s required at any given moment.
With as much time as he’s spent planning for the worst since he got his diagnosis of AML, I figured he’d thought of everything that he felt needed attention.
But the other night he said he had a gift for me. He handed me a box that looked like it might contain a piece of art, and as I unwrapped it, I was a little baffled. Eddie’s given me art before - the last two times he gave me paintings by Seattle artist Lois Silver – but those were for very special occasions, and my big birthday isn’t until the fall.
As I peeled the tape off the Kraft wrapping paper, the familiar scent of varnish rose up toward my face. Once I removed the paper, I recognized the label that Lois Silver attaches to the back of her paintings. Eddie quickly told me not to read the title, so I turned it over and closed my eyes for a few seconds before looking at the piece.
Lois Silver begins creating her lushly rendered narrative paintings by applying oil bar pigment with her fingers. Her pallet is vibrant and saturated, and the method she uses to lay down the paint instills emotion in the very first layer. Eddie and I both love the way she animates her subjects (people hanging out at diners, nightclubs, intimate gatherings, on beaches), often catching them mid-gesture. There’s usually a sense of cinematic drama, maybe a feeling of isolation, a bit of mystery, human interaction and visual tension. Dogs frequently make an appearance. She leaves it to the imagination of the viewer to figure out what might really be going on in her colorful tableaux.
The last time I received one of her paintings from Eddie was on the 50th anniversary of our first date. It depicts a man and woman sitting at a table together having a meal. When he decided to buy it, he asked the artist if she’d be willing to change the title of the piece, and she did. The title became “For My Beloved,” the words that are inscribed on our wedding bands. It's pictured above.
I’ve been helping Eddie write some essays about his life. Eventually we’ll assemble them into a book, a memoir if you will, for friends and family. My older brother has just completed his, and it has served as inspiration to both Eddie and me. For prompts I’ve been using a book written by Rabbi Steve Leder, which contains 12 questions we can all ask ourselves at any point in our lives: when was a time you led with your heart, what are your regrets, what got you through your greatest challenge. The answers can become what Leder calls an “ethical will,” a meaningful gift for one’s children and grandchildren. Leder’s book is called For You When I Am Gone. Posing these questions (and others) to Eddie and writing down his responses has been a wildly enjoyable experience for me, and I think Eddie has welcomed all the soul-searching.
When I opened my eyes and rested them on the Lois Silver painting Eddie gave me the other night, I immediately burst into tears. There he was, in a sea of lively colors, sitting at a table at one of our favorite neighborhood joints, looking healthy and happy, our beloved dog Charlie in his lap, two cups of tea in the foreground. He looks so content and peaceful, and he’s wearing a beautiful blue shirt. He told me he had to send a photo to Lois Silver for the commission and that he’d chosen one I’d taken of him sitting across the table from me when we were having tea at Via Delizia one afternoon. He said he wanted me to always remember that view of him. After all, how many thousands of times have I seen him from this vantage point?
He asked the artist to call the painting “For You When I Am Gone.” And she did.
It's pictured below, among a sampling of some of her other work.
