I have two talented, wonderful children. I don't say this often enough. Or even loudly enough. They bring joy and laughter as well as heart bumping angst. Don't all children?
My oldest has a birthday today. I remember her early steps around the perimeter of the living room at Talking Stair Inn. She was so proud of her accomplishment. And we were so excited to have such a sunny, beautiful little girl. I remember our early walks, she stopping every few feet to admire a leaf, a dandelion, or a particularly interesting stick. We would, of course, have to bring the stick home with us to admire at a later time. There was quite a collection of them at the back door. I remember walking to the local elementary school, golden ringlets bobbing down the street, and attacking the swing set with fierce joy. She would belt the ABCs whilst reaching to the sky with those pink and white sneakers. I remember the smile on her face as I came to pick her up at Nursery School. I remember the frowning concentration of drawing and coloring at the little yellow table.
When I see her as a young woman now, it seems like those memories are a million years away. They happened to two other people, distinct from the two of us. But then she smiles joyfully at her accomplishments and I am whisked away to the time of sunny afternoons singing the ABC song holding a little hand, and a stick in the other, ringlets bobbing down the sidewalk.
Happy Birthday sweetie. Love you lots!
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Ambivalent Mourning
A person I know died this week. Actually, that's inaccurate. Two people I know died. One is much beloved and his passing will leave a hole in my life for a while. But the other person, well, she's a little harder to define in terms of the space in my life where she used to be.
The woman who died, was in a plane crash. She was a dynamic sort of person. She was always moving. Walking, running, talking, doing, doing, doing. She could be annoying in her movement, if you were in her way, if you didn't move at the same pace, if you didn't see the next place to be was important. Bur I liked the courage of her convictions, even if they weren't mine. I appreciated her drive, even if I didn't have the same. And I did like her smile, which she gave out generously. But, I hadn't really seen her lately. I used to run into her in the local town and find out what she was up to. But when I heard of her death, I realized how long it had been since I actually saw her. She was a part of the landscape in our town. One of those people you just saw from time to time and updated the goings on when she stood still enough to talk. We knew each other better when our children were in the same preschool, although I think my youngest was a year older than hers. There was a fluctuating group of moms who congregated in the local cafe before picking up the kids and she was of that group. There were also a few of us who went to an exercise class before pick up time and she was definitely a part of that group as well. It's hard for me to believe I won't see her again. She was younger than me. It seems harder to swallow when someone younger than you dies so suddenly. There were still some things we had left to say to each other. There were still some memories to share. The weird thing is, if I were to send a sympathy card to her kids, they wouldn't have a clue who I was. It's hard to mourn someone you knew, who you talked to, but never really got to know at all. Bye, Marc.
The woman who died, was in a plane crash. She was a dynamic sort of person. She was always moving. Walking, running, talking, doing, doing, doing. She could be annoying in her movement, if you were in her way, if you didn't move at the same pace, if you didn't see the next place to be was important. Bur I liked the courage of her convictions, even if they weren't mine. I appreciated her drive, even if I didn't have the same. And I did like her smile, which she gave out generously. But, I hadn't really seen her lately. I used to run into her in the local town and find out what she was up to. But when I heard of her death, I realized how long it had been since I actually saw her. She was a part of the landscape in our town. One of those people you just saw from time to time and updated the goings on when she stood still enough to talk. We knew each other better when our children were in the same preschool, although I think my youngest was a year older than hers. There was a fluctuating group of moms who congregated in the local cafe before picking up the kids and she was of that group. There were also a few of us who went to an exercise class before pick up time and she was definitely a part of that group as well. It's hard for me to believe I won't see her again. She was younger than me. It seems harder to swallow when someone younger than you dies so suddenly. There were still some things we had left to say to each other. There were still some memories to share. The weird thing is, if I were to send a sympathy card to her kids, they wouldn't have a clue who I was. It's hard to mourn someone you knew, who you talked to, but never really got to know at all. Bye, Marc.
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