Nancy Polo, acrylic on wood panel 24”x18”
In 2017 my friend went through the unthinkable. In the span of two months she lost two of her three sons. Her oldest, a 43-year-old father and husband, succumbed to depression and committed suicide. Within weeks another son, 26-year- old brother to a twin, overdosed on heroin laced with fentanyl. Until we are all guided by the same moral compass, people will continue to die. Let’s look at the healthcare as a mother would, with empathy and compassion. This painting is dedicated to my friend Fern Cone and her family.
In Mater Dolorosa, my friend and I stand as book ends to a surreal scene. Both dressed in black and bathed in a warm light, we are trying to bridge a gap with our hands outstretched. On the day of the second memorial service my friend seemed to glow. Her hand clutched and crushed a plastic water bottle to her heart as she greeted all the guests. It was the only gesture that belied her grief. She was still cocooned in a state of shock. I knew that would fade to a raw pain. In my terror of the inevitable I reached out, mirroring a grief that only a mother can understand. In the care of a child, mothers plan and hope for the best. We procure whatever resources we can for the development of a person given to us. When a child dies, no matter when, mothers cannot fulfill a purpose that is written into their body, their very essence. To read more…