Ruby Rose
Location: Canadian Prairies
I got goosebumps rereading my short story, "Going Home," as it was written as a tribute to my older brother, an artist, who passed away far too young.
It is 1976, and Joshua, a young man of thirty years of age, had just returned home from the hospital. He is in the final stages of leukaemia which was slowly rendering Joshua to a shadow of his self. His skin is white, his body is totally hairless and there are deep black hollows around his vacant eyes. While in the hospital with all its sterility, Joshua felt as if placed in an alien black and white world which seemed to heighten his predictable death sentence thus entombing him alive...making the sentence interminable. Joshua wanted to begin his final journey his way...into the depths of his soul. The land masses of his life had now come adrift reminding Joshua of an old colourless nightmare of long ago. Joshua remembered that he was standing on an ice floe somewhere in the Arctic and was feeling secure until he felt the ice cracking up beneath him. Instinctively, he jumped onto the larger of the pieces and a sigh of relief washed over him. But then, this one broke as well and he hopped from patch to patch...And now Joshua had a sense of an ice floe coming apart inside him and he needed to leave that colourless world. Joshua was an artist needing colours - his vibrant blues and reds to feel alive. He was weary and in pain from seeing a world in the whites of the hospital and so demanded to be released in order to die amongst familiar and more colourful surroundings.
Joshua was unmarried and lived alone in his loft - a large storeroom of sorts within a large building that he was able to rent rather cheap, in a city of about 100,000 people in the province of Nova Scotia. He had lived there since 1970. Joshua's mother and father lived about 500 miles away, and from time to time, Joshua would visit them. To all he appeared to be a loner as he was always totally immersed in his art creations - perpetually trying to capture the perfect hue, the perfect colour. His stoic silences did not make him approachable, thus, Joshua walked alone in his colourless pain.
In between creating paintings which he sold to provide his bread and butter and pay the rent, Joshua began a mosaic of colours - a mural - on the ceiling above his bed that was in a designated corner of the loft. He painted one cherished memorable scene after another from his past forming a continuous story of special events complete with a pathway leading from one to the other. Joshua discovered and used colour combinations of blues and reds befitting great artists of yore. And this is what he wanted to return to...to soothe his soul, to see again and perhaps...to be part of.
Joshua looked up at his ceiling, his journey of colours, now complete with myriad colour grades throughout, and his eyes came alive again. He knew then what he wanted to do. His masterpiece of colours above was vibrating with lightsomeness in the darkness of Joshua's present world. His airspace, now filled with pulsing sensations once more, beckoned to Joshua as he lay on his bed. Every scene was exploding with swirling movements of luminous colours against a backdrop of heavenly blue - as they flowed across the ceiling. As Joshua looked up at the scenes unfolding above him, he pulled himself back deeper and deeper into his mind and let himself travel down the path...pulling the memories with him and pushing the pain away. And with just one silken thread of sanity, Joshua began travelling on down the pathway again and feeling, tasting and seeing all the tableaux coming alive just for him...with the black shadow of death lurking over his shoulder along the way. Joshua knew it would be a long slow journey as he did not wish to walk in haste - he needed to pause along the way and savour. He also knew he had all the time in the world to enjoy.
And so the journey began...Joshua was ten years old. Suddenly he heard the tintinnabulation of the bells as they rolled in waves in the air leaving goose bumps on his skin - sounding with a richness par with the haunting music of Schubert's Ave Maria. It was Fall 1956 and Joshua was visiting Paris, France with his parents. It was to be a magical interlude for Joshua. His first impression of Paris was the apparition of a golden haze setting on the city. Then he observed the trees crowned in striking hues of autumn foliage in variegated shades of amber, gold and scarlet - an artist's delight. Then Joshua remembered standing in awe in front of Sainte Chapelle of St. Louis. As he entered the cathedral, Joshua stood dazzled at the sight of the rich colours of blues and reds of such he had never seen before. There were fifteen huge stained-glass windows that filled the interior of the cathedral with a mystical, roseate light. Then he realized that they were like huge religious story books - the whole story of the Bible beamed out as men passed from window to window and once seen, never to be forgotten.
It was dusk now and the evening light brought the colours of the glass alive. The vibrant colours of the windows were stored in his mind forever...the beginning and the end of his lifelong fever to paint. The blues everywhere saturated his senses. There were deep violet blues, intense pure blues, midnight-blues that appeared almost black; then there was an unusual bluish green reminding Joshua of a precious gem and peacock feathers. He could feel the blueness all around him. The commingled reds permeated him with their intensity and Joshua could feel the heat emitting from them. As he gazed his fill, he thought of the deep scarlet colour of cardinals and the vivid red of the luscious insides of ripe strawberries. He also noticed the bright purplish reds, the deep red colours with slight tinges of blue and the rich red ruby colour reminding one of a fine red wine. Joshua remembered telling his friends back home that he saw a story in a church of beautiful coloured glass and that when he grew up, he was going to be an artist and draw that story...And he did.
And Joshua travelled on...pausing awhile as he sat in a boat with its soothing rhythm - a sort of low lolling and roll that gently rocked him. Joshua could hear the protesting murmurs of the waves and feel and taste the sting of the salt air as it cleaved to his skin giving him sensations of a sea spray once more. It was August 1972 and Joshua, with a friend in tow, was about to do some scuba diving for the first time. He remembered the sharp smell of the sea water as he slipped over the side, heading for the bottom. The water was warm - warmer than the air at first but as Joshua descended, the water got colder and darker. He watched the colours change from a cerulean blue, through dark blue then to a deep violet blue...to blackness. The water had filtered out all colour as Joshua went deeper and he recorded all in his artistic mind. He remembered how he couldn't wait to get home to see if he could capture the colours once more.
"Ah, there is my Mom's beautiful Christmas tree of two years past," he said. It was Joshua's last Christmas home. His mother knew how he loved "blues" and therefore for him, she decorated the tree that year with luminous blue balls. She also made a beautiful unusual Christmas wreath using the bluish-green peacock feathers with intertwined tiny shining blue balls. Joshua could hear and see his mother and father and their loving faces. Oh, how they hovered over him, how they loved him.
As Joshua continued down the path, he could see the soft unreal iridescent play of pearly light reflecting from the opalescent blue oval-shaped womb...his final stop. There was a pool of roseate coloured water within. As Joshua approached, the room below turned calm, and peaceful as...the silence of a tomb prevailed...waiting, soothing, safe...home. Joshua closed his eyes briefly before entering and remembered Socrates and life and death - rendering Joshua to a shining without a shadow...to eternal light and leaving the black slash of death behind.
The landlord of the building, not having seen Joshua for some time now, decided to summon Joshua's parents. Arriving at the loft, Joshua's mother's eyes immediately drifted down the path above with all the paintings coming alive for her...and she remembered. And when she saw the slight figure of her son entering the opalescent blue oval-shaped receptacle and leaving death behind, she understood and knew he had left of his own free will. Then with a tear in her eye, Joshua's mother said, "Goodbye, my son, God speed!"
"Going Home"
by Ruby Rose
"Who knows that what we call death is really life,
and life is death" - Socrates
Joshua opened the door to his loft and walked right over to his beloved paints. He immediately picked up a paint brush and dipped it in satiny black oil paint and reaching up to the ceiling drew a mere black slash on the path above...to depict death...who would be walking slowly behind him on his final journey.by Ruby Rose
"Who knows that what we call death is really life,
and life is death" - Socrates
It is 1976, and Joshua, a young man of thirty years of age, had just returned home from the hospital. He is in the final stages of leukaemia which was slowly rendering Joshua to a shadow of his self. His skin is white, his body is totally hairless and there are deep black hollows around his vacant eyes. While in the hospital with all its sterility, Joshua felt as if placed in an alien black and white world which seemed to heighten his predictable death sentence thus entombing him alive...making the sentence interminable. Joshua wanted to begin his final journey his way...into the depths of his soul. The land masses of his life had now come adrift reminding Joshua of an old colourless nightmare of long ago. Joshua remembered that he was standing on an ice floe somewhere in the Arctic and was feeling secure until he felt the ice cracking up beneath him. Instinctively, he jumped onto the larger of the pieces and a sigh of relief washed over him. But then, this one broke as well and he hopped from patch to patch...And now Joshua had a sense of an ice floe coming apart inside him and he needed to leave that colourless world. Joshua was an artist needing colours - his vibrant blues and reds to feel alive. He was weary and in pain from seeing a world in the whites of the hospital and so demanded to be released in order to die amongst familiar and more colourful surroundings.
Joshua was unmarried and lived alone in his loft - a large storeroom of sorts within a large building that he was able to rent rather cheap, in a city of about 100,000 people in the province of Nova Scotia. He had lived there since 1970. Joshua's mother and father lived about 500 miles away, and from time to time, Joshua would visit them. To all he appeared to be a loner as he was always totally immersed in his art creations - perpetually trying to capture the perfect hue, the perfect colour. His stoic silences did not make him approachable, thus, Joshua walked alone in his colourless pain.
In between creating paintings which he sold to provide his bread and butter and pay the rent, Joshua began a mosaic of colours - a mural - on the ceiling above his bed that was in a designated corner of the loft. He painted one cherished memorable scene after another from his past forming a continuous story of special events complete with a pathway leading from one to the other. Joshua discovered and used colour combinations of blues and reds befitting great artists of yore. And this is what he wanted to return to...to soothe his soul, to see again and perhaps...to be part of.
Joshua looked up at his ceiling, his journey of colours, now complete with myriad colour grades throughout, and his eyes came alive again. He knew then what he wanted to do. His masterpiece of colours above was vibrating with lightsomeness in the darkness of Joshua's present world. His airspace, now filled with pulsing sensations once more, beckoned to Joshua as he lay on his bed. Every scene was exploding with swirling movements of luminous colours against a backdrop of heavenly blue - as they flowed across the ceiling. As Joshua looked up at the scenes unfolding above him, he pulled himself back deeper and deeper into his mind and let himself travel down the path...pulling the memories with him and pushing the pain away. And with just one silken thread of sanity, Joshua began travelling on down the pathway again and feeling, tasting and seeing all the tableaux coming alive just for him...with the black shadow of death lurking over his shoulder along the way. Joshua knew it would be a long slow journey as he did not wish to walk in haste - he needed to pause along the way and savour. He also knew he had all the time in the world to enjoy.
And so the journey began...Joshua was ten years old. Suddenly he heard the tintinnabulation of the bells as they rolled in waves in the air leaving goose bumps on his skin - sounding with a richness par with the haunting music of Schubert's Ave Maria. It was Fall 1956 and Joshua was visiting Paris, France with his parents. It was to be a magical interlude for Joshua. His first impression of Paris was the apparition of a golden haze setting on the city. Then he observed the trees crowned in striking hues of autumn foliage in variegated shades of amber, gold and scarlet - an artist's delight. Then Joshua remembered standing in awe in front of Sainte Chapelle of St. Louis. As he entered the cathedral, Joshua stood dazzled at the sight of the rich colours of blues and reds of such he had never seen before. There were fifteen huge stained-glass windows that filled the interior of the cathedral with a mystical, roseate light. Then he realized that they were like huge religious story books - the whole story of the Bible beamed out as men passed from window to window and once seen, never to be forgotten.
It was dusk now and the evening light brought the colours of the glass alive. The vibrant colours of the windows were stored in his mind forever...the beginning and the end of his lifelong fever to paint. The blues everywhere saturated his senses. There were deep violet blues, intense pure blues, midnight-blues that appeared almost black; then there was an unusual bluish green reminding Joshua of a precious gem and peacock feathers. He could feel the blueness all around him. The commingled reds permeated him with their intensity and Joshua could feel the heat emitting from them. As he gazed his fill, he thought of the deep scarlet colour of cardinals and the vivid red of the luscious insides of ripe strawberries. He also noticed the bright purplish reds, the deep red colours with slight tinges of blue and the rich red ruby colour reminding one of a fine red wine. Joshua remembered telling his friends back home that he saw a story in a church of beautiful coloured glass and that when he grew up, he was going to be an artist and draw that story...And he did.
And Joshua travelled on...pausing awhile as he sat in a boat with its soothing rhythm - a sort of low lolling and roll that gently rocked him. Joshua could hear the protesting murmurs of the waves and feel and taste the sting of the salt air as it cleaved to his skin giving him sensations of a sea spray once more. It was August 1972 and Joshua, with a friend in tow, was about to do some scuba diving for the first time. He remembered the sharp smell of the sea water as he slipped over the side, heading for the bottom. The water was warm - warmer than the air at first but as Joshua descended, the water got colder and darker. He watched the colours change from a cerulean blue, through dark blue then to a deep violet blue...to blackness. The water had filtered out all colour as Joshua went deeper and he recorded all in his artistic mind. He remembered how he couldn't wait to get home to see if he could capture the colours once more.
"Ah, there is my Mom's beautiful Christmas tree of two years past," he said. It was Joshua's last Christmas home. His mother knew how he loved "blues" and therefore for him, she decorated the tree that year with luminous blue balls. She also made a beautiful unusual Christmas wreath using the bluish-green peacock feathers with intertwined tiny shining blue balls. Joshua could hear and see his mother and father and their loving faces. Oh, how they hovered over him, how they loved him.
As Joshua continued down the path, he could see the soft unreal iridescent play of pearly light reflecting from the opalescent blue oval-shaped womb...his final stop. There was a pool of roseate coloured water within. As Joshua approached, the room below turned calm, and peaceful as...the silence of a tomb prevailed...waiting, soothing, safe...home. Joshua closed his eyes briefly before entering and remembered Socrates and life and death - rendering Joshua to a shining without a shadow...to eternal light and leaving the black slash of death behind.
The landlord of the building, not having seen Joshua for some time now, decided to summon Joshua's parents. Arriving at the loft, Joshua's mother's eyes immediately drifted down the path above with all the paintings coming alive for her...and she remembered. And when she saw the slight figure of her son entering the opalescent blue oval-shaped receptacle and leaving death behind, she understood and knew he had left of his own free will. Then with a tear in her eye, Joshua's mother said, "Goodbye, my son, God speed!"