Most of what I think about now are the things I did wrong ...the things I wish I had done something different, said something better. Moments of impatience, frustration play before me as I respond, react with less love and care, less thought. I hear my own voice and see my gestures, relive the moments when I snapped at Phoebe. I cannot get to the moments when perhaps I responded with love, kindness, patience ....they don't come to me for some reason. Could it be that I was never a good mother to Phoebe? Could it be that I abandoned her, dismissed ...forgot her? I can't find the moments that put those questions to rest. They haunt me.
I read what to expect as I march through the days, weeks of this new life ....guilt is a place we stay for a while. It cannot be intellectualized away ...dismissed. It must be. ...and there are some things of my own doing that I must accept ...admit. I lost some moments that I could have won. I know that is true for all of us ....part of the human condition. We live in a fallen world, and we are prone to our own vices. I am not expecting I should have been perfect ...I'm just regretting the times I could have been better, could have given more and didn't. Maybe the outcome never could have been different, but what if ....?
Guilt is a funny thing. At times it is neurotic, senseless ...but it has it's place in our souls, our society. Too often we are given the option, encouragement even, to assume no guilt. But that is wrong. We fall, we fail. I fell and I failed Phoebe. I let my daughter down, misread her too often. I'm not even talking about her death ....more about her life. There is only one place to go with this ...towards God. Only He knows.
I did the best I could ...I have always tried to. My imperfections did not kill my daughter.
But her death certainly prompts me look at myself with precision, forces me to let go of some of what I believed important, cling tighter to others. I wish I could have been the perfect mother ...I wish I could have read her mind ....I wish, I wish, I wish.
People rush in, assuring me I am a good mother, discouraging negative thoughts about my way, my personality. It is all love and assurance coming towards me, for me, out of love...and I need it. But the intimacy between a mother and child ...a mother and oldest daughter is so deeply personal, so precious ...that to live with no guilt, no doubt ...would be offensive, wrong. To live that guilt for as long as needed keeps that intimacy alive ...keeps the relationship alive and growing ....as it still should. It is the greatest examination of conscience one could have ....the most precise. I am glad for that ....for now
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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