An Artist’s Heartbeat

2 weeks ago I was lucky enough to visit Larry Smith in Palliative Care. He was a longtime member of the MAP community and a friend. He had asked me to come, because he had things he wanted to tell me.

He grabbed my hand. He was in palliative care and he was lit up. He had things he wanted to tell me, and he wanted me to bring them back to the room.

He told me that as things had gotten worse, and then better, and then worse again, something unexpected had been happening at the same time. This extraordinary opening up of compassion and love and receiving love. He said it was magical. And horrific. Both at once. And that it kept reminding him of scene work. Of those moments when you just don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go there. And then you do. And there’s this release. This surrender. And the freedom that comes.

He said once he accepted what had to happen, he was just filled with so much love and magic and beauty. And while we were sitting together he pulled out a book that had been his mom’s, one he didn’t even know how he’d ended up with, and inside was a card she had left him. It said: I love you, Larry. Love, Mom. He looked at me and said Meredith, this is the kind of magic that has been happening to me. This is everywhere.

There was a music therapist in the palliative unit and they were working on something together. She was recording his heartbeat and they were going to fill it with things, he wasn’t sure exactly what yet, but he had ideas and he was so excited about it. He was making art in his last days because it brought him joy. That’s who he was. He didn’t mention the last union jobs he booked. He talked about the heartbeat project.

He also brought up a conversation we’d had years ago when I told him I didn’t know him. That after all our time together I still didn’t know who he was because his art wasn’t showing me. He said that was one of the most important conversations of his life. He had been erasing himself in his work without fully knowing it. And when he finally let his art look like him, everything opened up.

He asked about every single person in his class by name. Where they were in their work. What was happening with them. He wanted to know all of it and he wanted to send his love back.

And then he told me that other than his family, these classes had been the best thing for him in his whole life.

Larry wanted me to share this with all of you. So this is my best attempt.