On the last day of 2013, we lost Sean’s dad, Jim Hogan.

The question everyone asks is, "was it expected"? As if somehow knowing will make it any easier.

I lost my dad suddenly. We lost Sean’s dad over the last several years. Both lived long full lives. If anything, knowing that they lived so fully is what brings me comfort. The grief is the same. In one scenario you cry a lot for many years after. In the other scenario you cry all the years along the way up until the last moment. And then, even though you thought you were prepared, you still experience all the feelings that accompany this kind of loss.

Normally I might have a lot to say here... In fact if you’ve noticed I’ve been much quieter on my blog over the last couple of years. Some of it is simply that our internet world is changing again and my growing business has demanded more time elsewhere. 

The other side is that I’ve experienced a lot of personal loss this year and recent years past, and for the first time in a long time I am feeling completely without words, both written and spoken. I don’t know if I’m noticing loss more? if I took it in stride before? if it all feels too big and too close to my heart right now? or if we’ve really been through a season of life that has included more than its fair share of sadness? Probably a combination of all of the above.

What I do know is that this kind of loss is a certain part of life. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to go through, but it does cause me to reevaluate how I want to experience it. Whether I want to make it more painful than it already is? or whether I can stay soft and loving and thankful for all who are here by our side, and all that we do have, especially each other, even on the darkest days. Sean and I were able to do this over these last few weeks, as if instead of our hearts closing from the sadness, we insisted they stay open. 

'Peace and Quiet' is something that Jim always said.

He was another father to me over the last 10 years. 

I loved hearing his stories and philosophies of life.

He always made me laugh even up until the last few days.

I was instantly welcomed into his family, with a Fosters in a frosty mug, of course.

He was there from the beginning of this business.

I painted many of my early daily paintings at his kitchen table.

Always supportive, always taking an interest in how it was all coming together.

I can’t thank him enough.

for all of his support, kindness and generosity.

and most of all for his son, Sean.

{photo c. 1962, Sean, Jim, Sandy and Jennifer}