my art teacher is in the hospital

i'm so glad that his life will be celebrated. that's what it's all about. and to have married his love.......ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. goosebumps...........pat

I am so sorry for your loss!

ohhhhhh, you are so sweet.
He married the day before he died. He and his beloved bride where in their PJ's when the justice of the peace arrived.
It was a bitter sweet affair. Soon after she met him, he was diagnosed with cancer. What followed where eight years of highs and lows. I knew him the entire time of this roller-coster. To love so deeply and then have your body take a dive...so sad. I am so glad I finally took him on as a teacher...he was fantastic.
A very special man, artist and teacher.

thanks so much for your kind postings.

<font color="#666666"> This last sunday was Ric's memorial.
I looked forward to the community gathering and sharing but dreaded it's passing. Like holding a fresh picked Indian Paintbrush flower that within two seconds of pinching off the hairy stem all the life escapes it's vibrant body. A special something that inhabited the lovely wild thing, that is never to return as that flower again.
So we sat in a hot room; listened to music, cried, laughed, and spoke of a man who never criticized anyone or their art. Who accepted his diagnosis of a cruel and virulent cancer as a gift. Who for the last eight years of his life opened his heart in a gentle and kind way to all who came to him. Even at Sloan-Kettering during his stem cell agony when he could barely pull himself off the bed, he sat up and listened to a young woman visitor who was in great mental pain. He was a Buddhist.
Ric was often scruffy with food and paint on his large t-shirts and jeans. And his hair! A young artist described how his hair resembled a burdock thistle. It was soft brown straight hair that moved in the slightest breeze. He would push the wispy strands away from his face while he concentrated.
He was a collector of ideas, words, images and people he would embrace then release. When he spoke- it was a often gathering of strange and surprising images that slowly escaped his mind and lay like marvelous exotic seeds before his students.

On Sunday's he would sit in a local cafe with all the newspapers on his table open waiting for people to come and discuss anything and everything. Many came. He was open to the unknown...
His death a was peaceful passing from conscious to the unknown, he was a man who was comfortable within himself. He was a teacher who opened doors that seemed locked. He unlocked my creativity when I was sure it was gone. All the paintings I have created in the last two years have been inspired by his great joy. </font>

what beautiful words......we can all only hope that when we are gone....someone will remember us with as much caring as you do for your friend......

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butterflylady747 said:
what beautiful words......we can all only hope that when we are gone....someone will remember us with as much caring as you do for your friend......

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I believe that the measure of a successful life is the love you leave behind.
to me kindness is the greatest gift.
to be kind and to be showered in kindness is a blessed event.
<font color="blue">He was a kind man. </font>
thank you...

G.

your paintings reflect a luminosity that comes from within you and i know he was very proud of the time that he got to spend with you...........pat

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fayerody said:
your paintings reflect a luminosity that comes from within you and i know he was very proud of the time that he got to spend with you...........pat

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you are so very kind to say that.
thanks