ART & POETRY BY PAUL & KATHY BOECHER

Minutes turn into hours, hours into days, days to weeks and on we go. Life has ended for some, for others it’s just beginning. When life ends, we rejoice for those who have gone on to their eternal home, but what of those left behind. Empty rooms, quiet spaces, only the sound of outside traffic, the furnace kicking in or a dripping faucet. Part of what comprised a family no longer lives here. The depths of loss have just begun to set in.

An empty canvas fills with spinning, swirling brush strokes. Colors are added one by one they create a mixture of music, performance and fine art. Filling the blank spaces are the memories we make during a lifetime. Each one of those funny stories, the laughter you shared, the little road trips, the collection of spans of time which cover a lifetime, all combine into a story yet to be told. Words of comfort and sympathy stir tears which gather in the corners of your eyes. Slowly those tears spill onto waiting cheeks. Sometimes they turn into indescribable groans. Will they ever end? Even they serve a purpose.

The fluid brush strokes are manipulated with great care along with wild abandon. The artist is the master of his work, but he touches so many with his beauty. Even when he dies, he will be remembered for the art created in his life. Then he paints the clouds.