Tag Archives: penny

It’s Been a Year

14 Tuesday Feb 2017

Posted by in culture, death, dementia, family, gratitude, kindness, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Sorry to have been missing for awhile, peeps. February 5th was the anniversary of my dad’s death, and I’ve kind of been hiding a bit. It was both harder and easier to deal with than I thought it’d be. It doesn’t feel like a year. A year. It still feels pretty damn fresh. To mark the anniversary, I went up to VA and met my mom out at the property we used to own. We’d okayed it with the current owner, who’s a really nice guy. We took some of my dad’s ashes down to the railroad tracks and scattered some there.

ashes-on-tracks

Then we headed into the flatwoods that have a lot of meaning to me, and were pleased to discover that the current owner also thinks it’s a special place. He left the jars there, undisturbed, set up some chairs facing the creek and added a little fire pit. Mom and I scattered more ashes into the creek and hid a couple pennies.

The next day, my mom and S and I went out to the cemetery to inter the rest of the cremains. They installed a nice bench under a huge old tree, and we put the box of ashes in and placed a penny with the word “thanks” written on it. When they put the top of the bench back on, we said a few words of thanks and placed a couple more pennies, then, since it was an absolutely gorgeous day, we wandered the cemetery and visited the graves of some friends and family that also reside there.

penny-for-nick-thankscemetery-bench

Was it hard? Yes. I miss my dad’s hugs so much – even the ones he gave towards the end of his life when he was a little stinky. There’s a finality to interring those ashes – the nail in the coffin, as it were. But there was also something healing in finally closing that chapter. There is nothing left to do now. There’s nothing hanging over our heads that needs to be done to take care of him. That’s a weird feeling, after so many years of making him our lives. There’s also some comfort in having somewhere to go if I desperately need to visit, though I doubt I’ll do that much. It’s time to move on.

So now it’s time to focus on the book. More on that soon. For now, though, thank you to everyone who helped us get through the last year since his death. It’s appreciated more than you know.

Reminder: A Little Father’s Day Help

19 Sunday Jun 2016

Posted by in culture, death, dementia, family, gratitude, kindness, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

Just a reminder to anyone who feels like cheering me and helping me honor my dad on my first Father’s Day following his death: Pretty please with sugar on top, put a penny out (heads up) somewhere, then snap a quick picture of it and email it to me at info@emilypageart.com or post it on my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/emilypageart/. I love you to pieces (large ones so that you’re easy to put back together again). You’re the best.

A Little Father’s Day Help

17 Friday Jun 2016

Posted by in culture, death, dementia, family, gratitude, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

, , , , ,

Hey all you fabulous peeps out there, I’m requesting a little help. As you know, Father’s Day is on Sunday, and, well, I’m in a downright panic. This will be my first fatherless Father’s Day. I want to do something to honor my dad, but I also don’t want to leave the house for fear that I’ll see dads with their daughters and I’ll lose my shit in public. So I’d like to ask you all for a favor. If you feel so inclined, please put a penny (heads side up) somewhere for a stranger to find, and snap a quick picture of it (with or without your lovely face next to it). Then email it to me at info@emilypageart.com or post it to my Facebook page. Thank you in advance for your awesomeness. You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

Drive-by Pennies

05 Tuesday Apr 2016

Posted by in gratitude, humor, karma, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

So, you know the whole deal with my dad and pennies, right? Well, for the last few weeks, I’ve been finding lucky pennies in the road on my walks around the neighborhood. I’ve probably found about 15 pennies so far. The front yard of one of the houses I pass is adorable. Very whimsical, complete with a pink flamingo. These are definitely people with a sense of humor. So when I found the first penny, I left it heads-up on the post that holds up their mailbox as I walked past, and said, “This is going to make someone verrrrry happy!” The following day, I did it again. Before long, I had run out of room for them, so I started lining them up on top of the mailbox itself. I wasn’t sure if they just hadn’t noticed them or were choosing to leave them there. A couple days ago, as I went to leave another penny, I found them all gathered in a pile on the back of the post, which means they definitely know they’re there, but have chosen not to remove them. Which means I love these people. I can only imagine what they must have thought when they first discovered them. I picture them counting them and scratching their heads. I’m betting they think it’s a kid leaving them there. When I walked past today, one of the residents, a man, was about to climb in his car, so I had to walk past the house and then circle back around and walk slowly so he’d be gone by the time I got there to plant the next penny. I felt so sneaky. It reminded me of the bit Dane Cook did about breaking down a door, only less angry and violent:

 

Pennies From Heaven

30 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in art, death, family, gratitude, husband, painting, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

This weekend, my mom came down to visit. Now that she doesn’t have to take care of my dad, she can travel more, so we’ll be taking turns visiting each other instead of me always driving up there. On Sunday, we got together with family for lunch. As we were sitting down to eat. S found two lucky pennies on his chair. No one knew where they’d come from, but for me, it made it feel like my dad was there with us. After lunch, a couple of the adults went out to hide Easter eggs for my cousin’s toddler. To distract said toddler while they were doing it, I taught him how to hide heads-up pennies and say, “This is going to make someone verrrrry happy!” And so the tradition continues.

Also this weekend: I sold TWO realist paintings. The first was the Saxophone painting. It went to a friend, which makes me really happy. It’s hard saying goodbye to pieces that are meaningful to you, and with my dad being a sax player and with my mom and I having used the painting as the front of our thank you cards to everyone following the memorial celebration, this piece means a lot to me. Knowing that it’ll be with someone I know and like who plays music, too, made it easier to let go. The other piece was the Violin head painting. That one went to a stranger, which gives me a little thrill. It’s exciting when your work goes to someone who doesn’t even know you, because you know it’s really about the piece itself, so it’s validation of your work.

So, all in all, a good weekend. And on my walk today, I found 4 lucky pennies and a 4-leaf clover. It must be my lucky day. Yay pennies! Yay art!

Reduced to Tears By a Penny

28 Friday Aug 2015

Posted by in dementia, gratitude

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Just when I thought the universe couldn’t bitchslap me any harder, I see this:

penny on chair

Now for most of you, this would mean nothing, but to me, it’s super meaningful. My dad and I used to get rid of the pennies in his pocket by leaving them around town as good luck for whomever found them. We’d hide them in the most random of places – inside books at the bookstore, inside planters, on railings, resting on the slats of plantation blinds…really anywhere you wouldn’t expect to find a penny. The tradition was, when you set it down, you had to say, with as much enthusiasm as humanly possible, “This is going to make someone verrrrrrrry happy!” Even if you were putting out 10 pennies, you had to say it each and every time.

S and I were shopping for some furniture for the new house and saw this penny sitting on top of the chair, and I just lost it. I started crying right there in the furniture store. Then we went to get ice cream, and someone was wearing a t-shirt from Bodo’s, our favorite bagel shop up in Charlottesville, VA, which is also the last restaurant we were still able to take Dad to after we put him in the dementia care facility. And finally, on the way to another store after getting ice cream, we passed Nick’s Trains store.

So, there I am, a hot, fragile mess, trying to pull it together before going into the next store, and I stopped and thought about it. And what I decided was that, with all the horribleness that this week has contained, maybe the universe was actually trying to remind me of how lucky I am. I have these silly memories of putting out pennies with my dad, and chowing down on the best bagels in the country, and train watching and flattening pennies on the train tracks – all with my dad. And now I’m teary, but for good reasons.

Thanks for the bitchslap, powers that be. I needed that.