Too soon...

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The deaths of Anthony Threadgold and his wife Taiko, who were both artists, were described as a ''terrible tragedy'....

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You’ve come to journey's end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across the distant shore

Sleep was always restless...fitful...uneasy... maybe peace surrounds you both?

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time

Hope fades... and my heart aches for that loss of your hope even as it does reflect my own, but through a glass darker than any mirror. And maybe the night shadows have truly faded and dawn has finally come?

I have made friends here and there, and my heart is overjoyed. Today I am sad, but beyond what puny words I can manage here. I made a friend in Tony Threadgold. Our friendship was meager; at least from my direction. Tony was one of those folks you make a connection to that you might wish was deeper. She gave me encouragement very early on when she discovered my writing much in the same way that I discovered her art. The kind of relationship you wish would grow but knew that it wasn't going to gain hold because guarded hearts yield their safety slowly if not at all.

painty in pink 004.JPG

Tony was described as painting in the style of Carvaggio, according to some collectors and critics. Her work, as you can see, was often auto-biographical. The many demons that seemed to trouble her subject(s) often came out in almost violent ways.

But a hopeful if hurried serenity could be found as well, if that makes sense?


I had lost touch with her, and like all folks in chatrooms and blogs and sites, I had hoped that real life had pulled her away from the net. It had, but in the way I had feared, and in a way I had never imagined. I won't go into that other than to say that anyone who makes that choice often if not always has lost hope. She and her wife perhaps now finally dwell in that peace and love we all hope for.

I feel, like many of us might, that I had done too little in caring and reaching out. Guilt will fade eventually, but my deep appreciation for the person I got to know if only in a small way for a short time will grow. For me, she reflected in her own creations and in her self as a creation what beauty can come of life, however brief. I barely knew her and Taiko hardly at all, but my heart weeps at their death.

Don't say...We have come now to the end...
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

...adapted from Into the West
Words by Annie Lennox
Music by Howard Shore'suicide-pact'-33777.html

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This story is 501 words long.