A widow finds a way to turn loss into life

A friend of mine gave me a framed reminder once to help me through a rough patch. She enjoyed my work as a photographer and her gift was reflective of her compassion. Life is like a camera. Focus on what is important.Capture the good times.Develop from the negatives and if things don't turn out, take another shot. Gloria Jean Buxton knows what it is like to take another shot. Green Grass Gloria spent her life teaching others. She was a language arts teacher at Langston Middle School in Oberlin and an administrator in the Oberlin school district for more than three decades. She retired early. Gloria and her husband, William, had plans. They were approaching 40 years of marriage and were proud to have raised three sons, eight grandchildren and now three great-grandchildren. Their second life as a couple was about to begin. "We were going to travel," she told me with a gleam in her eye. Gloria paused. The smile in her eyes disappeared as she looked at me and said, "then he passed away." William Buxton died of cancer and Gloria grieved. She traveled to find peace. She wrote poetry in her journals searching for the right words to soothe her pain and she volunteered for everything hoping the diversions would fade her pain. One day, as she worked as a volunteer at the Cleveland Museum of Art, she watched children play in a gallery that provided hands-on experiences. "And this was right after the pandemic," Gloria said. "Children had been shut up inside and on zoom and I said, we need to bring these children outside." Gloria had an epiphany. She remembered her days as a little girl and the playground by her grandmother's house that she spent hours running, climbing, swinging and imagining. She came home to Oberlin and in 2021, with the help of many, created Art in the Park. This summer will mark and celebrate the fifth anniversary of Gloria's creation. Art in the Park offers free, interactive art, storytelling and educational activities promoting literacy, creativity and community serving nearly 200 children in Oberlin and Lorain. William was an artist. He worked in oils and pastels and his art is on display on the walls of the Buxton home. Gloria has a way about her when she speaks. You want to listen. "Art is therapy," she said in a hushed voice. "Art is history. Art is joy. Art is sad. Art is stories. Art is," and Gloria pauses, "freedom. Yes, freedom. To watch the children and relieve my childhood and to romance my husband, he would be so excited and he would be out there helping me with it." Escape Gloria and I met in the Toni Morrison room at the main branch of the Lorain Public Library. She brought a bag of memories with her because I asked her to. One by one she took out black-and-white and sepia-toned pictures of days long ago and she smiled at each because each was like a gift, discovered again. There was a picture of her as a child sitting on the porch of her grandmother's home and one of her parents. Gloria was the oldest of five children. "I'm bossy by nature," she said to me through a commanding laugh. "Yes, I'm bossy by nature. Let's say I'm assertive." Gloria reached in her bag and pulled out one of several journals she brought. "I'm a poet," she said to me as she opened the journal. "That's another thing that heals. I write poetry during my saddest moments." One poem starts: There is somebody missing at the table. His presence is sadly missed. The poem is about her husband but it could easily be about her younger brother, Billy. Gloria cared for Billy as he battled schizophrenia. She was one of the only constants in his life. She brought pictures of him to show me. His image is hard to forget. His hair, black and beard speckled with gray. Empty eyes. "In the summer of 2022, I was trying to find a place for us to swim," Gloria said. "We went to a local YMCA. The last thing I remember was them bringing Billy out on a gurney." Billy drowned. "It's still traumatic," Gloria said, "but through the gift that God has given me, I turned my grief around." Gloria had an idea to not only honor her brother but hopefully save others from a similar fate. "I came up with I can Swim My Way," she said as she held a picture of kids in a pool learning how to swim. Gloria's initiative that honored Billy provided free swimming lessons to local children. It is not a stretch to think Gloria has saved lives in honoring one lost. Summer soon The sun will appear and stay in the coming months. Warm days aren't friendly reminders to Gloria. Her husband and her brother left her in the summers of years ago. It is not a coincidence that Gloria's gifts to the community are centered in the summer. "Yes, Art in the Park and I Can Swim My Way are purposefully placed," she said in a voice still tinged in sadness as she repeated to me the exact dates both men died. Gloria is many things. A widow. A mother. An advocate. A friend. A ray of hope. "I hope that I have brought some joy (through my programs). I hope that I have brought love for the outdoors, the parks and not the computers. Kids are on computers too much. I hope that I am bringing to the children of today that child that I used to be, carefree, swinging on the playground swings." Gloria pulled another journal from her bag. She opened it to read to me. The binder was worn and the pages almost fell apart from each other and words fell, too. Struggle. Inspire. Concern. Reality. Closure. Gloria moves through it all both literally and presently. Gloria is in our communities. You will see her walking. You will see her speaking. You will see her planning. You will feel her caring. You will witness her taking another shot at life. Contact Ron Jantz at rjantz@chroniclet.com.