While visiting North Carolina over the past few years, I’ve become fond of local artists, Charlie and Susan Frye of Frye Studios. Recently, I purchased one of Charlie’s paintings; and last week, it arrived – not just as art, but as an unexpected lesson waiting to be acknowledged.
The painting depicts a man who looks undeniably like my father, seated on the moon and suspended in an ethereal space where the Earth, sun, and distant planets hover behind him. The setting alone felt significant, as I’ve been deeply connected to ancestral presence and other realms for some time. Seeing my father placed there felt intentional and timeless.
In the painting, he holds an illuminated watch in his left hand, symbolic of sacred time; and that the connection with him transcends linear time. In his right hand, he holds a glowing heart, identical to both the heart-shaped vessel that holds his ashes and a heart he once gave me in a powerful vision years ago. To me, it represents love without limits, endlessly given.
A crown hovers above his head, signaling exaltation, glory, and eternal life. A blue third eye (just like his unmistakably bright blue eyes) rests on his forehead emanating wisdom, awareness, and spiritual sight. He’s dressed simply in a white shirt and jeans…exactly how he so often appeared in life.
It is, in every way, my Daddy.
When the painting arrived, it was damaged in transit. A chunk of the moon itself was torn from the lower left corner. At first, the damage felt devastating. But as I sat with the piece over the next few days and asked what I was meant to understand, the meaning became clear. Like kintsugi, the art of honoring brokenness, the imperfection itself was part of the message.
The break did not ruin the painting;
it revealed something deeper:
Life is imperfect. My father was imperfect. I am imperfect.
Love is not diminished by imperfection.
And yet, the beauty remains.
This realization brought me back to a blog I wrote nearly ten years ago called The Same Moon, about how my father and I, living in different places, found comfort in knowing we were always looking at the same moon.
That moon connected us across distance, just as this painting now connects us across dimensions.
The Man on the Moon is a blessing. A reminder that expectations may fracture, but meaning endures.
Love is infinite, and regardless of the realm
or no matter the time, we remain connected, ALWAYS.
