Through her Eyes

Furniture shopping last summer.

I often wonder if I could smile with such sincerity if I were in constant pain from the shingles, but she does.  For over 91 years her smile has remained strong, much like her family of four sons and one daughter, all blessed with her love and patience.  Her joy for life, for everyday living, for being with family is slowly being drained from her body.  Age is the demon chasing her every night.

Now her legs have said, way too many times, "This pain is just too much.  Sit down and please don't move."  The walker is companion but not the companion who makes her feel needed.  It's only a metal frame that helps her to walk from her "perch" on the couch, to the kitchen, to her bedroom, and back.  Her companion for the last few years died in September.  He was younger than she and was suppose to outlive her.  She misses him everyday. I can't imagine her grief nor her pain. 

Alleen  loves to eat at Red Lobster

Those birthdays have taken their toll, and all we hurt as we watch her age. Her daily routine of coffee and donuts with friends at  Donut King and Braum's have come to an end.  She doesn't enjoy getting out and the cold hurts her bones.  She thrives on the breakfast platter now that Jack brings daily, and for an hour or two each morning she shares her life with Jack, her son, or any of us who are family.  She loves to talk and share her memories.  We are all happy that she does; then she chokes or her breathing becomes labored and she's frightened and our hearts race.  We have caretakers who help her daily with household chores and meals, but they have struggled with her independent nature.  We've spoiled her, rightfully so, and she most pleased with restaurant foods, not home cooked.  

Now other aliments follow her.  A woman who merely takes Anacin for relief and a pill for her racing heart, now suffers from dizzy spells, that scare her so much  that she doesn't like to walk.  And so she sits, her muscles atrophy more and more everyday, but fear of falling has taken hold of her thoughts.

Most of the time she's articulate, reads the newspaper word for word cover to cover, watches football, Lawrence Welk, Andy Griffith, Everybody Loves Raymond, the Golden Girls, and good old movies, but she's lonely.  Her fingers aren't strong enough to sew and make the quilts or doll clothes they once made.  Her guitar sits more now than ever before, with her fingers no longer callused and strong enough to press the chords.  Her will is stronger than

Alleen and great grandson, Isaac

muscles, and so she makes herself get up and sing for others.  It keeps her going and makes her happy.  But pain is now her constant companion.

How does a family make a decision for an aging parent?  We try to see through her eyes.  We try to do what's best for her, but her mind thinks she's young, strong, independent and can live alone. Her dream is to die at home in her bed.  Do we honor her dream?  We toss and turn and question what's best, what helps, where do we go from here? 

I listen as God guides me. I open my heart and pray, and so do we all.  We pray that her life stays "golden", but in the end we pray for "God's will be done."   

Herstory: Shirley Curiel

Shirley, now in her studio full-time.

Her eyes often sparkled like warm sunshine on a cold winter's day, as we stood in the hallway of Prairie Hills Middle School smiling, laughing at ourselves, at our experiences, at the things that middle kids say and do.  She was the "Art" teacher, and I was the "Reading and Writing" teacher. Our few minutes of hall duty became a life saver for each of us.  Her classroom had windows that highlighted the sunshine and seasons, the colors of fresh air, and imaginative pieces of artwork; my room had orange carpet, thin walls, but immediate access to the library and a wide world of surprises.  

Shirley helped me with ideas for expression of thought through art.  Words sometimes don't tell the whole picture, or perhaps we don't know how to share those feelings, but pictures and art free us to express a thought or feeling unseen in words.  When I needed a way for my students to express a book or a piece of writing Shirley had my answers.  I've been blessed with teacher friends over the years who were creative and able to coach me on how I could use art in all teaching endeavors. 

Shirley was first introduced to art when she attended private school at John Brown University.  She said, "This allowed me to hang-out around places where art was being created and exhibited on campus." Marriage brought her to Hutchinson, Ks where she and her husband raised their three children, and after the death of her sister-in-law they raised her two teenage daughters.  "With five kids, no washing machine or dryer, driving a car that I bought for $300 I enrolled in McPherson College and graduated with a degree in History, a teaching certificate and many hours of Art."  

Shirley's well lite studio where colors come to life.

Her first teaching job as an Art teacher landed her in the basement at Central Jr. High in Hutchinson where she a small classroom with pipes carrying heat for the entire four story building, regular student desks not tables, no sink, one bookcase and one old wooden chest of drawers for storage.  The kiln for firing the clay work was on the 4th floor, no elevator.  "I had to carry all the heavy clay projects up three flights of stairs and then run up to adjust the temperature from low to medium, from medium to high, and then the custodian would shout 'don't forget to turn it off after school.'  She laughed as she described the conditions in the basement,  "While the upper floors suffered from insufficient heat, we opened our windows to keep from stewing.  Because we were in the basement, the windows opened to concrete window wells about half the depth of the windows, and dirt from the ground blew in on the heads of the nearest students.  I was so happy to have a job that I felt none of this was an overwhelming problem.  I spent ten years in that room, before moving to Prairie Hills, where I enjoyed a room double the size, four sinks, a private glassed in office, large storage room, enclosed kiln, and individual storage for each student."  No wonder I eagerly looked forward to a few minutes with Shirley every day.   

One of her popular pillow paintings.

Buhler country road landscape

Even though she's painted all of her life, she did not start painting for herself until she retired in 2000.  As she told me, "I could not do two things at once.  It took all of my time and attention to do my teaching job." Before we moved away, I bought one of her Kansas landscapes. It hangs in my writing room to brighten the day, but it can also be seen from the hallway, so people's eyes are drawn toward her landscape where sunshine adds highlights to nature's colors. I'm most grateful to my friend, Shirley Curiel, for being a part of my life, and for still adding sunshine to it everyday through her paintings.