Longing

Sometimes it really feels like God is playing with us. This whole fiasco, disaster couldn't possibly come from a loving God. What kind of a father would do such a thing to a family that strives to love Him and show Him that love? Sounds like a madman! That gaping hole just doesn't quit. I'm still factoring Phoebe into my day until I remember she isn't part of it ...here anyway. But if I can listen, try to lean my ear up towards Heaven ...I can hear something that is much sweeter than my own thoughts. Last night we traveled into Boston for Mass at a church with a late, 8 PM, Mass. It was the last place Phoebe went to Mass, so it lured me a bit. I had never been, but have always heard good things ...perpetual adoration, plenty of times for confessions, no convoluted homilies ...the things that speak to me and put me at ease. I know I seem "over the top" perhaps, but my mission has always been to teach my kids the authentic faith ...not a morphed version of it, often called "cafeteria catholic."  So I choose where we go carefully.  One daughter already suffered great confusion, I don't need another to.  Mary Claire leaned into my face. Loudly she whispered "Are you sad?" "No" I answered. "Are you?" "No, I'm not, because she is here with me." "Who?" "Phoebe!, She's right up there" And she pointed to the ceiling above the altar. As I listened, I knew ...because isn't that where all our deceased ...the Church Suffering and the Church Triumphant are, right there in our midst, but most especially in perpetual adoration. Ah yes! Thank you for the reminder. Later, as the priest spoke he reminded us of the three times Pilot would have let Christ free. But no one ...disciple, blind man given sight, forgiven sinner woman at the well ...no one came to his defense ...probably out of fear. Christ stood alone ..and was condemned ....and nailed ...to the cross ...for our sins. I've grown up knowing this ...but it isn't always that I comprehend this magnitude of suffering and love. When I do, and I realize He did this for all of us, for me, for Phoebe, for the sinner on either side of Him, I am humbled. Yes, I feel alone. Yes, I am alone. I've lost my daughter. (I know I have six more, but it doesn't work like bagels ...there's still enough of those, but not enough of her.)
But He is here with me ...even without the feeling of Him, He is here. The priest posed the question if you could have one wish fulfilled what would it be? My eyes stung ...I want Phoebe back. I want her here with me, even with the worry of her ...the promise of her.  My eyes stung because I know that wish will never be granted ...can never be.  On the car ride home I asked my husband what his one wish would be. He had felt broken all day, to put one foot in front of the other was work of extraordinary measure. Today, he was hurting more than me. It's like that, we seem to take turns. His answer "eternal happiness for our whole family." As usual he finds the big picture answer while I search for and desire the immediate.  I told him mine and he said "She would just have to go again ...we all will." We will all die, yes that is true, and hopefully we all will merit a place in Heaven. One day we will all be together for all eternity ...  How I wish I could say that is enough for me.  But it isn't.  I don't understand why Phoebe had to die, why He allowed her to die.  I see no justice, no mercy in this, my missing my daughter.
I need that reminder again today. I need to listen, to get out of my own head, my own words that want to tell God he let me down. He didn't let me down. He put me in the desert.  Why, I have no idea. 
Thanksgiving.  Homecoming.  Friends, dear ones, returning from school.  Phoebe would have a new bounce today knowing they were home in just a few short days.  It would have been a weekend of giggles, movies, catching up.  I would hear the familiar footsteps, the laughter spilling through my front door.  "Mom, what should we do?" she would ask, dismissing everything I suggested as if it came from Mars, but she would giggle ...and they would too.  They might still giggle, I hope they do, but not with Phoebe, and not with me in the way that had grown so familiar, so comfortable.
One young man returns, I haven't seen him yet ...since Phoebe died.  Friends since childhood, some shared memories, family friendship ...I remember the time we searched and searched for them at a BIG wedding.  My friend and I growing in panic ...the dads staying calm, but urgent ...and we found them, exactly where we told every child NOT to go.  Joe and Phoebe on the dock, on the pond, out of sight, just enjoying the day, each other.  How I long for that May day again.  When the world was safe, my worries so much smaller, and tragedy seemed remote ...impossible.
I guess its these odds and ends that I have to tie up somehow.  Seeing the people Phoebe loved that I haven't yet seen.  This time, for me, it will be Joe ...this Thanksgiving.  Poor kid, probably has no idea how much rests on him from me ...those memories.  Christmas will bring Annie home ...from so many states away.  The day I had Phoebe, I learned that Annie was on the way.  Seven months apart, their moms best friends, they've always known each other.  Familiar ...loving each other so well simply because their moms love each other so well.  Annie will be hard for me too ...I see the two of them, out too deep in the ocean, Kelly yelling for them to come in closer.  Giggling, thinking we're crazy, they move in a bit only to drift out again.  In her, I'll see Phoebe.  Phoebe loved Annie, pure and simple.  They didn't see each other a lot, but she loved her ...a simple friendship that needed no stoking.  Will these loose ends ever be tied?  Will I ever heal and not feel so raw ...taken, mocked?  Can I be happy for these wonderful people, or will I just yearn for Phoebe.  When does that tide turn?
I try so hard to listen, and when I can, I hear Him and it is sweet and soothing ...but I can't stay there long.  I can't anchor myself, I'm swept in a whirlpool, the water dragging me down.  I want to see sunlight again.  I want her laugh again.  I want to see her play again ...to fly far too high on the rope swing.  Even at 17 "watch me Mom!"  "Okay, Pheebs, I'm going inside if you swing that high, it scares me."  "C'mon Mom, you're such a chicken."  "I'm not chicken, I'm a mother!"  "Phoebe why don't you wear shoes when you skateboard."  "It's longboarding Mom, and since when have I ever worn shoes."  "Phoebe, the water is too cold for you to swim."  "Are you kidding me, last year, my first day in was March 2nd ...it's almost April!"  Phoebe, please come back and play, let me worry about you again.  Please!?
Phoebe wasn't perfect, no child is, but she was my perfect, imperfect child.  And I loved her so much.  She pulled everything she could out of me ...conditioned me, prepared me ...for this. She made me strong, strong enough to say goodbye.  But I don't want to be that strong.  If I wasn't, maybe God wouldn't have taken her from me.  Is this the price I pay for chasing my little girl her whole life?  Is this the price I pay when, finally, our stride matches, we are in step.  Side by side, we were walking side by side, and we were smiling at each other, together.  We were happy, we had arrived at the other side, had crossed the bridge ... and we were holding hands ...and she let go, without telling me.
So now, I bathe myself in tears and wish for what should have been.  I weep over the loss of my daughter and look on as others reunite with theirs ...and I am sad, and questioning.  Why did He choose this mother and this daughter to separate?  Did I do something terribly wrong?  What if I had ...?
Yet, I know the answer despite my anger, my sadness, my confusion ...that God loves me enough to offer me this horrible suffering ...and only He knows why.  It doesn't feel like enough, but for now, it has to be.  I believe that in the end, the promise will be clear, the wait and separation well worth the pain.  But to pretend it doesn't hurt, to say I can bear this, to suggest its not all that bad ...is a lie.  I hurt deeply, and the current of pain runs deep and long.  Yet, I look ahead, because someday, on that horizon, she will be and I will reach out my hand and she will hold it ...and she will say "Mom, come watch me."  And I will say "Darling girl, show me all you can do, show me how high you can fly, and how fast you can run!"  And she will be barefoot ...and I will smile with a full heart and a robust joy ...that runs deep and long.  That is the promise I believe.  The only one I can believe.  So Phoebe,  wait for me dear one.  When she was very little I would say  "you are my little helper."  "No Mommy, I your girl!"  Yes, you are my girl and how I long for the day I will see you again.  Wait for me Phoebe, please.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe, and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace, Amen.