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Bex Hall

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Bex Hall

Gratitude, grief, and getting through

November 15, 2022

After many months, there’s some daylight

Sunset on the day Mom passed away, July 20, 2022

To everyone who reached out after my mom had her stroke in June, I am forever grateful. When I showed each card or gift to her, she perked up and seemed to enjoy each one. I believe it made a difference in her days when she was conscious. Every kindness certainly made a difference to mine.

She passed in Hospice Care the morning of July 20th with family by her side. I’ve been untethered and rough around the edges, or I would have posted sooner.

Goodbye Mom, July 20, 2022

The night of the 20th, I sat on my front porch and watched the sunset over the river. The colorful solar lights in our yard powered on in the darkness. Mom had gifted them to me earlier this year and when I installed them, I texted her photos. We spoke on the phone and she particularly liked the green (one of her favorite colors) spotlight. It was a nice memory.

The light on the tree.

Hours later, I went to bed but couldn’t find sleep. I wandered back outside and stared at the maple tree bathed in the green glow and thought about how much Mom loved color and lights. Right in that moment, the light blinked out. I glanced around the yard. All the others were still on.

Was it a message from Mom? After a person passes away, do they get opportunities to communicate just one more time?

I don’t know about that, but I know, for whatever reason, the light went dark; the timing was perfect. It felt like a hug.

There have been other little instances that felt like gifts. When we left the church after the service on July 29th, there was a torrential downpour which stayed with us until we arrived at the Coal River. The rain stopped the second we opened our car doors and stayed away until the minute we left.

During the drive, my daughter’s phone lost service and when it returned, there was a new voice mail. It was from my mom singing happy birthday to my daughter. From June 11th. The voice mail had hung in cyberspace for nearly seven weeks, unheard. As we stood together, arms around one another, we listened to Mom sing as we scattered her ashes in the river and said goodbye.

Saying goodbye to Mom, The Rock at Coal River, St. Albans, WV

There have been other moments, ones I’m sure have rational explanations, but seeing “signs” has helped ease my pain, whether they’re real or imagined.

Friends and family have provided the tangible balm; A meal made and delivered. The blanket, wreaths, flowers, and cards. The place to stay near the hospital. The random phone calls and prayers and texts and messages online. They all peppered the lonely stretches of grief and uncertainty and made them more bearable.

How is it possible to ever fully say thank you to everyone?

Yellowstone photo by Bex Hall


What I have not been doing the past four months:

Editing my manuscript. Painting. Writing. Reading. Blogging. Caring about much of anything.

The only thing I *have* done with any consistency is visit estate sales every week. It’s something I’ve enjoyed for years and it’s an easy diversion. Things others keep and the stories they tell about the person and their life have always fascinated me. What they loved, what they feared, what they desired.

A friend of mine also lost her mother earlier this summer and has been cleaning out her house. She has taken the overflow of unwanted antiques and vintage goods and set-up a vendor booth at a local antique mall and recommended the project to me.

This is the first time in months I’ve felt any kind of spark. I think it’s what I need. An activity that lights me up. For now.

This is my winter project, and what I’ll be writing about over the next few months. I’ll share the journey with anyone who’s interested in tagging along.

Until next time, hug the ones you love. With eternal gratitude, Bex xoxo

Filed Under: Miscellany

I’d like to ask a favor

June 23, 2022

Send notes of love!

Will you send a note? Today marks the 8th day since my mom had a stroke. She is out of critical care but still needs help breathing on her own. She is trying to communicate, but the old ways of doing so are absent. One squeeze or tap of her … [Continue reading] about I’d like to ask a favor

Filed Under: Stroke Tagged With: healing, kindness

No selvedge on my fabric heart

June 19, 2022

No selvedge on my fabric heart. ICAD Day 19

A selvedge is a “self-finished” edge of a piece of fabric which keeps it from unraveling and fraying. The edges of my fabric heart have no selvedge. My mom is in ICU after having a stroke three days ago and I have come unraveled. Hug the … [Continue reading] about No selvedge on my fabric heart

Filed Under: Art Projects Tagged With: ICAD

Answers lead to more questions

June 14, 2022

My grandparent’s marriage seal, 1941

On this day in 1941, my grandparents married in Gallipolis, Ohio, 81 years ago. I found this last summer while going through some remnants of my grandparent’s lives. I didn’t know she was from Gallipolis nor did I know she was barely 17 years old … [Continue reading] about Answers lead to more questions

Filed Under: Memoir in Objects Tagged With: the objects

You can’t always get what you want

May 23, 2022

The miniature violin won at auction.

But sometimes you get what you need Last summer, I fell in love with a nearby property overlooking the Ohio River that was up for auction. A tiny house on a 1/4 acre lot with an oak tree at its side, which probably sprouted the same time they … [Continue reading] about You can’t always get what you want

Filed Under: Memoir in Objects Tagged With: the 100 day project 2022, the objects

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About Bex

 

Bex Hall

Her writing has appeared in various online and print publications, most recently in Kerning, a literary magazine, and in the Stories of Hope Collection in Transplant Living. Her artwork has appeared and sold through the Grayson Gallery. She blogs here about creative life and creates in Studio BE overlooking the Ohio River. Her work in progress is a memoir about the secret life of objects.

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  • Creative practice goals:

    Show up every day behind the pen, the brush, or the lens and share my work.

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