carving

it is break-time in colour theory. i have been doing a great deal of theorizing about colours. last saturday was the service for my grandfather, he had alzheimers and passed away the weekend before. he was cremated and they put his ashes in a wooden urn with a loon on the side (he was an ornithologist and loved nature). as soon as i saw it i started crying. for so long i had been able to forget who my grandfather was and this weekend it all came back to me in a very painful way, that he wasnt always the vacant old man in green pants as i had come to know him, that he used to be my grandpa who took me out in his boat and showed me how he carved wooden ducks in his shop and burned the patterns of their feathers on or painted them pretty colours. he used to make some especially for me to paint ( i never did it as nicely as him though, maybe if i tried now i could do it). It also made me feel very confused and guilty about my attitude toward him in the last eight years or so, i only tolerated him, i guess. the last time i saw him i hardly spoke to him, i didn't feel as though there was any point to it. i wish i could go back and change that.