The Painting

Fourteen years ago this month, Jeff and I honeymooned on the island of Kauai. We spent a week in paradise, and it continues to be one of our most treasured memories together.

About half way through our tropical getaway, we drove to the northern most point of the island to Ke'e beach, and we embarked on a short hike. I can still remember the way the sun felt on my skin and how the dirt crunched beneath our feet as we climbed the trail. Soon we came to an open area of grass, rocks, and trees that provided us with a most magnificent view of the ocean.

I snapped a photo so we could remember this moment.

When we got home from our honeymoon, I printed and framed that photo. It quickly became a favorite, and it hung in our bedroom for many years. Every time we looked at it, it seemed to transport us back to that day where the weather was warm, the breeze was light, and the sound of the ocean was calm and comforting.

It was so perfect.

Eight years later, we would have a very different experience on a beach - one that would turn our lives completely upside down. One that would make us balk at the sound of waves crashing on the shore. One that would make us never, ever look at the ocean the same way again.

Jeff sustained a spinal cord injury on July 27, 2013 on the shore of Huntington Beach in California. And our life was catapulted in a new direction that day. We didn't know it at the time, but that abrupt change in our life's path would eventually lead us to finding another family whose lives are impacted by the same injury - one that happened in a similar way, but eighteen years earlier.

Glen Dick was injured in 1995 when someone playfully pulled him off a dock into the water. Like Jeff, Glen is a C4/5 quadriplegic. Nearly a decade after his injury, Glen met and married Monica. And a few years after that, their daughter Elaina came along.

Our families' lives intertwined when I met Monica on social media in 2017. And since then, we have gotten to meet up twice in real life, and we're planning to do so again later this year.

In the same year that we first met, Glen started a new journey of his own. He began to paint. Twenty two years after suffering a life-changing injury, he decided to put brush to canvas. Glen has some bicep movement in his arms, so he first started out by holding the brush in an adaptive cuff attached to his wrist. But because he doesn't have hand or finger function and therefore lacks fine motor skills, he wasn't satisfied with the paint strokes produced using this method. Then his art instructor suggested he try holding the paint brush in his mouth.

And that's when Glen became an artist.

He could now paint with dexterity and precision. He practiced his art, and Monica began sharing his work on social media. I was blown away by what I saw. I remember scrolling through several photos of Glen's paintings and showing Jeff, and we both looked at each other with "are you kidding me" expressions on our faces.

They were truly remarkable.

Here's a couple examples.

Bucks County Covered Bridge by Glen Dick

The Ghosts of St. Elmo Colorado by Glen Dick

So in early 2018, I had an idea. I knew Glen, Monica, and Elaina were coming to visit us later in the year, and I asked if we could commission a painting of our favorite photograph - the one I took on our honeymoon.

Glen agreed, but only on the terms that it would be a gift - a token of the friendship our families had developed.

Fast forward several months to the night they arrived. After initial hugs and settling in, we all gathered together and opened the painting.

I was trembling with anticipation. I knew it would be an incredible piece of artwork.

But it was beyond anything we expected.

It wasn't just the picture I'd taken thirteen years earlier. It was so much more. The texture, the colors ... they all popped making it seem like the trees were swaying in the breeze, and the ocean was foaming on the shore.

I remember looking at the painting and thinking - for the first time since Jeff's injury - I can finally see an image of the ocean and not cringe - not instantly think about the danger that lies beneath the blanket of waves - not have any negative connotations associated with it.

Glen even added some special touches. He included our initials on the rock in the foreground. And near the middle of the image, far out from the viewer's perspective, he added a person sitting on the rocks watching the ocean. He told us it was Jeff.

Glen added Jeff sitting on the rocks in the painting. Though this, he gave us both a new perspective of the ocean.

What an incredible gift we'd just received.

***

The painting now lives on our bedroom wall surrounded by photos of our family - some taken before Jeff's injury, and some taken after. We look at it every single day. And really, there couldn't be a better place for it.

Because when you or a loved one experiences a traumatic injury, your life - both literally and figuratively - fractures. There becomes a distinct "before" and "after."

When Jeff and I look at the photo I took on our honeymoon, all we see is the before. We see life from the perspective of an able-bodied couple on one of our best days: we were carefree, strong, independent. We see all the good and all the happiness our old life gave us - we see the convenience of a life without disability. And if I'm being extremely honest, we see a life we both miss immensely.

Our honeymoon - I snapped this selfie just after taking the original ocean scene photo.

But when we look at the painting Glen created for us, we see a much different scene. The before is still there, of course. But what we mostly see is the after.

We see a treasured moment of our life re-imagined by someone we might have never known if it hadn't been for the horrific injuries both Jeff and Glen endured.

We see a talent that blossomed only after tragedy struck, after all hope had been lost - twenty plus years, at that! We see that it is never ever too late to try something new.

We see a friendship with a family that mirrors our own in so many ways. A family whose experience in living this SCI life has helped push us forward in our new life - who has helped us see that even with a broken piece, the family unit can still thrive.

While I am not a subscriber to the "everything happens for a reason" philosophy, I do believe that good things can come from terrible tragedies.

And meeting Glen, Monica, and Elaina has been one of the best things that's happened to our family since we started this journey down our new path.

Me, Jeff, Monica, and Glen with the Painting

Our sweet girls not wanting to say goodbye!

***
If you'd like to see more of Glen's incredible artwork, learn about the motivation behind his paintings, and purchase prints of his art, please visit his website: https://gdick.artspan.com/home

In addition, check out the Mouth & Foot Painting Artists organization that Glen became a member of last year. You can find him under artists from Pennsylvania: https://mfpausa.com/

Lastly, enjoy these planning and progress photos that Monica shared with us as Glen created our one-of-a-kind treasure.

Initial drawing phase

First layers are almost done

Adding the final touches