• Libbie

The Blue Corner - Love in the Time of Apocalypse

Dad came to me in a dream. He was upright and gray; he walked out slowly from a blue corner, out into shadow.


The smell of him was all around, linseed oil and turpentine, and something else hung around his presence, too, something I'd never been aware of before, young as I was. It was a long, terrible ache of loss and shame, an agony that flattened. It was the source of his dullness.


In the dream, he told me without words that he had died because someone had taken everything from him, and he’d been dumb enough to freely surrender it all. He’d been naïve enough to have faith. He paced from corner to corner. He trailed that smell of his studio, the pain, the solvents in their tin cans.


He told me, It was all taken from me, all of it, everything, and so I was done here, I left, it was time to go.


But he still suffered from the loss. The same old knives still cut him.

I woke early and sat up in bed and eventually Paul woke too and asked me what was wrong. Nothing, I said, and meant it. I said, It was just the ghost of my dad. He’s been haunting me lately. But he haunts me a lot, to tell you the truth.




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