Over the weekend, I had the unmitigated pleasure of wandering through the de Young Museum in San Francisco.
Most of my time spent in places of curated beauty is one of breathless anticipation, rounding corners to discover new pieces of art that stirs up emotions deserving to be felt in raw form. I have my favorite genres and periods and tend to gravitate towards those galleries, but sometimes, as I wander through a room on my way to get to what I want to see, I find what I need to see.
Edmund Charles Tarbell’s The Blue Veil.
As I stopped to admire the piece for the colors and her captured solitary moment, I noticed the placard next to it held more than just the name of the artist and who donated it. It was this…
I have no idea who Jonah Copi is, but I’m grateful to him.
My diabetes community is my blue veil.
“I give her clarity
in a state of confusion.
I give her guidance
in a time of fogginess.
I am not only her veil
but her friend and protector.”
Sometimes we forget that we have a blue veil when diabetes becomes overwhelming.
And sometimes we lift that veil to allow others to step in underneath it to see our secrets and share in its comfort.
But this is what I know: my world is colored with the beautiful blue that symbolizes my community and my friends. And I wear my blue veil proudly and hope that I can protect it as well as it has protected me.
As November draws to a close and another “Diabetes Awareness Month” is on the books, the general public will go on to the next awareness campaign. I’m not angry or jealous, as we should all look to other communities with the same openness that we ask from them. I am just so very grateful that my blue veil will not disappear or leave me. It is always with me.
Even in a museum tucked in a corner, waiting for me to find it.