The human experience is wrought with relentless burden. The past several years have been an endless cycle of refocusing, flexibility, and constant change that I never asked for. I’ve left behind towns, homes, and circles, met new colleagues and inspirations, and lost true friends along the way. It takes a heavy toll on the heart, especially when I lose people I thought would always be there. “Life is about change,” a cliche statement that teaches us that stability is fleeting and the only way to make it is to bend like a sturdy tree in a storm.
Some might say they don’t need friendships or other people getting in their way. It’s not some perceived inconvenience of friendships that feel like a burden; it’s the looming absence after friendships dissolve or when someone you thought would always be a part of life is now gone. The warmth and comfort once derived from their presence and memories is shrouded by the veil of grief.
One of the first guests scheduled for my upcoming podcast, Refill Your Mug, was Emily Blau; artist, nurse, adventurer, mother, sister, friend, and inspiration. You may not recognize the name, but you would never forget her once you met. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to write her story, talk about her incredible career, or feature her gorgeous artwork. There were endless intriguing layers of who Emily was, and I felt proud to be her friend.
Last month, as I was scrolling through social media, I saw announcements for Emily’s funeral and realized the bad dreams I used to have about Emily’s empty house had come true.
I first met Emily in the early 2000s after moving my family into a little house in Mesa, AZ. Emily lived in the house behind mine, and she made it feel like home. It wasn’t long after we moved in that we met, and I remember she said she recognized me and declared me her sister from that moment on. She had an endless well of energy that could power a small village for a hundred years, yet she had a calming aura that kept her energy from feeling overwhelming.
She was the weird lady who drove my kids to softball practice during the summer while she danced and sang to Miley Cyrus songs. She showed them how using mopcloths on their feet and pretending to be an ice skater was the best way to mop. She took a rescued bird to the animal rehabilitation center after my kids and I stayed up all night, making sure the bird was fed and cared for. She told me how to mush up cat food to feed the stray kitten who appeared in our yard. That kitten lived 18 years. She was at the birth of my youngest baby and fed me chicken soup so I wouldn’t pass out. These are only a few examples of her kindness toward me. She was the sort of friend who put her all into each of her friendships.
As I mentioned, she was an artist first. She’d spent years painting murals in houses and businesses all over while also making time for creative projects to make her own home more whimsical. Everywhere you looked, she’d turned her home into a sacred space for her art. The postcard stencils inside her cupboards first inspired me to add postcards and photos to my kitchen, and then I began to add whimsy to every corner of my home.
The important goals throughout her life were always to help others. She once said she always dreamed of going on a peace corp-kind of mission where she could sleep on the ground and help others. She eventually did raise the money for such a mission when she got the chance to work in a community for those suffering from leprosy. Shortly after, she went to college, earned her nursing degree, and then, later, her doctorate.
By the time she became board-certified Emily Blau FNP;DNP, I’d moved away and life, as they say, went on. Despite the distance, we kept in touch and met up for lunch or at a coffee shop to catch up on the years past and talk about future plans. Emily’s life and art had evolved and grown. She was married, had grandchildren, had become very respected in the hospice medical community, and was especially excited about creating art with stained glass.
Last August, my friend Brittany came to visit me, and we were perusing one of the many downtown art galleries. Inspired, Brittany mentioned how she’d always been interested in stained glass, and I immediately thought of Emily. When I asked Emily, she invited Brittany and myself to attend her January workshop for a chance to learn from her. The day of the workshop is how I like to remember Emily best: she was queen of the day.
Brittany and I get to recount that day and talk more about Emily’s artwork and impact during the premier of Refill Your Mug. Emily Blau will forever be a beaming, radiant light in my life, wearing paint-covered overalls, swinging on the treehouse swing she had just built for her grandkids, and that’s how I want to remember her.
If you’d like to collaborate on future travels, coffee adventures, or creative ideas with Traveling Coffee Girl reach out anytime. Donations are always welcome through Buy Me a Coffee or CashApp
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