Who are you my dear?
I weep at your death,
A tear makes way from the corner of my eye.
I am hanging soggy wet clothes to dry.
An ear to the receiver, held firmly by my shoulder.
I am pressed with news,
So it seems, you passed from metastatic breast cancer.
Ironically I hear this from my mother.
One whom recently "recovered" from the disease.
Now a phone call concerning your death.
Beautiful Coosje i've seen your artwork you know!?
An exhibition in Spain at El Museo De Juan Miro.
There I fell in love with you and your husband.
Feet glued to the floor, heart racing, love at first sight.
Moisture clamming at the palms.
Eyes reeling in delight.
Security found me suspicious,
Pacing from one masterpiece to another,
Ferverishly jotting down inspiration.
You and Claus formed quite a team.
Gigantic harps, cherries, typewriters, Grecian Columns.
The mere thought of this makes heavy my breath,
Now final partings on a collaboration.
The end of an era.
Coosje, I hold up to you, to Claus, my love.
May you find bitter sweet peace and well deserved rest in your home up above,
We have never met, but i believe we've known each other once.
God bless you my dear.
Amen.
With all my love,
Ashley Gustafson
Coosje van Bruggen (June 6, 1942- January 10, 2009)
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