Airstream Alchemy: Magnetic Musings Amidst Grief and Creativity

Finally. She is home.  My 22 Airstream LandYacht studio that has been in Hamilton for the last 7 months under renovations  is finally home.  What was supposed to take two months stretched out for another five months but wow was it worth it. I struggled with a name for her for awhile now but I think I’ve finally settled on Violette. I live on a place called Violet Hill, my middle name is Violet, my mother’s mother’s name was Violet, my band is called Madison Violet and it turns out that one of the first owners, was Violette. I mean c’mon, saying Violette in a thick Italian accent is sexier.

I am home too, back on the farm - twenty two acres of once-blooming wild flowers. They are still standing tall but have lost all colour. The bright golden rods have shed thier golden hair, now dried up to a brown perm, the Astor has parted with her pretty lavender coat, the apple trees have lost their leaves but still defiantly bear arms laden with apples.

Three months ago today, Monday August 21 at 7:01PM I watched my mother, Valerie Ann Stevens MacEachern take her last breath. Just writing this made me stop breathing. I felt like my lungs just sat back further in my chest to make room for the sword that wants to keep stabbing at my heart. Grief is my constant companion now. I open a door to hang up my coat and see the one article of clothing I have of hers, a beautiful white fleece hug. Warm and cozy just like my mum. I bury myself in it, I wrap the sleeves around me and imagine her. I’m hoping to capture even the faintest trace of her scent. I inhale deeply and tell her how much I miss her. And then I sob. My body convulses. My chest tightens and the rhythm of my breath falters, the room feels like it’s spinning. Each sob feels like a seismic wave, shaking the foundation of my being, leaving me gasping for the next breath. I know grief. In fact, I am intimately acquainted with it. I’ve walked this somber road, felt the weight of loss and mourned the murder of my brother Stevie. I’ve witnessed the impact it had on my mother, a woman who endured the unthinkable loss of her son. The lines etched on her face told the story of that grief she carried. My sister, too knows this sorrow intimately, having lost her daughter at the tender age of 20. It’s a shared pain that binds us, a tapestry of heartache integrated into the very essence of our existence.

Yet, despite this familiarity with loss, this grief is different. It’s another kind of ache that sets itself apart from the others. I am the flesh and bone of my mother, but this grief is a solitary journey, a path I navigate alone. The threads of grief may weave a common tapestry but the colours are ever-changing, just like the wildflowers I walk among daily.

I feel incredibly grateful to have Violette, as my sanctuary, it feels like a new creative journey is ahead of me. Come along with me for the ride as I work on figuring out how to get my acoustic panels hung again. Yesterday I did a trial in my friend’s airstream that has been gutted and  I riveted magnetic discs into the ceiling to see if a magnetic solution might be better than using velcro like I have previously. I will share photos of the new studio eventually but here’s a little video from yesterday. And before you go.. how do you find solace and creativity in your sanctuary during challenging times? Share your experiences below.