My Time with Marjorie

By Lorelle A. Miller

I want to take a moment to remember a recent encounter with a woman named Marjorie, an eloquent 94 years old who attended several of my art classes at Summerhill Villa.

Marjorie came to my class with the intention of getting back to art, which she had been away from for years. She was unsure as to whether she would be able to

do the work she once loved.

We had an immediate rapport. I realized that this was a very special gift to have her in my class and witness her process as she made her way back to painting. Marjorie did not let her physical restrictions hinder her desire, she worked with an oxygen tube attached to her nose, a patch over her left eye, which was going blind, headaches, and only wheel chair access, none of this stopped her.

She wanted to do a painting of her great grandson, and so we got to work. I helped get her started on the drawing, which she took to right away. She scrutinized every angle of her drawing as well as developed answers to certain compositional challenges. Her mind was sharp and her goal clear. Once I worried as I saw her doze off for a bit, unsure myself as to what might be happening. I discreetly went to find some help, only to find her awake and drawing again by the time I had returned.

Marjorie finished the drawing and was ready to start painting. She was a bit hesitant, saying that she did not know if she could do this anymore. I reassured her once more that I would be there and help her; I told her “we can do this!”,  she smiled.

 I helped her with her paint mixtures and she dove in. Painting intently for 2 hours at a time. She told me by the end of the last session we were together that she had started out with a headache and by the time the class was over and her great grandson’s painting was beginning to emerge, her headache was gone. “It just shows me that it is emotional” she exclaimed. She had made amazing progress; I could detect her skill coming through. I helped her pack up and carefully put away her painting for the next session. We said our goodbyes and she graciously thanked me.

I just remembered that Marjorie had been wheeled into my class at the very first time when I was lecturing about some very complicated color concepts.  Her care-taker said she wanted to hear the lecture and she found it very interesting. As I think back I remember being sort of caught off guard by the very elderly woman seated so close to me so she could hear and see what I was talking about. 

Marjorie missed class one day and I wondered. I noticed her absence the next class and then her daughter came in.  Her mother had died the night before. Her daughter Pam was there to tell me how much she appreciated me working with her mom, and that this class had made a big difference in her stay at Summerhill.  I knew our time together was special from the first time we worked together.

It is not every day that you get a journey like this one at the end of someone’s life. I was so touched by all this I wanted to write about it so I never forget these precious hours.

I remember telling Marjorie that with any luck I will live as long as she had and still be able to do my work, the work I have loved from the very beginning. To me this great lady stood as a symbol of hope for all of us in the class, that art can live with us and help us up to our last breath. We can continue to express, communicate and enjoy our process as long as we desire.

Thank you Marjorie for the time we shared and for the gifts we exchanged. It was a short, but remarkable journey.

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