I'll be laying low for a little while, catching my breath maybe. Absorbing a little more of the shock that overtook us so many months ago now. It's like that, it seeps in a bit at a time. God knows how to care for us in that way, so that we don't completely crack ...fall apart, unable to live.
We're in a new place now, I know. Most people have relegated Phoebe's death to history, in the past. And that is all normal, good even. So I understand. It's a small number now that knows the rawness we feel in this house, that it is still there, even though we are living well, laughing, singing, playing ...they still know the tears may come at any moment ...they still know the gravity of the loss of Phoebe. I'm glad for those few, the ones who have hung in along side us, along side me. But it is a new phase, one we were told would come.
I want to feel the wind on my face and coldness of the water. I want to hear the laughter of my kids ...and my husband. All these are good things. And I do feel and hear and live good things even though that loss is hard felt. For me, the time has stood still. For me, Phoebe just died ...yesterday, and the sun rising each day still surprises me because why would it when such a one has stopped living. Phoebe's death will always be recent, there will be no long time ago ...the experience of it will just change and adjust. There is no moving on, there is only stepping forward.
And the only way I can do that is to trust completely in God ...and in His teachings and ways ...as He taught them ...not as they have been morphed and twisted so no one feels uncomfortable and sin no longer exists...but as they truly came from Him. I read and hear His words ...and they are Truth. I hold fast to that, put blinders on to the distractions and distortions ...to the politically and socially correct and acceptable. I listen to Him as best I can, failing every day, but trying again and again. Only God will sustain me, us ...only Him. And sometimes, He works through others to urge me onward ...to confirm my path.
I miss Phoebe ...every day. I want her badly to be back in my life. It's hard to trust God in all this missing, but I know I don't have to understand it all, I just have to trust.
I'll be still for a while ...and write with pen and paper ...and maybe catch a glimpse of my girl dancing on the beach,
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Perfect Words
In the wee hours of Saturday we'll pile in our car and head off on an adventure. All of us except our oldest. Today my phone rang and I see a familiar number, the first one I had called that Saturday. It is always a cheery greeting back and forth ... She wants to catch me before our great adventure. I tell her I am expecting great things and we chuckle about the long, long drive with a car filled with kids(shh!, some of them teenagers). She knows my kids really well and so we both know the highs and lows likely to be experienced in the car ride alone ...and we laugh. Her kids once called me her "laughing friend" because every time she was on the phone with me ...she laughed. I liked that title. But I'm caught quick as she tells me she knows this isn't easy for me, this planning and doing and living and striving for life. She tells me she knows the backdrop must pull me and my fight must be so strong and so intent to break loose. And I hear those words and think of what I had just read a few hours before ...and how much it spoke for me. It was as if she heard me ...and she did, without the words. And she echoed what I live ...and she knows.
Today I read two things. First in Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief, something that captures my friend:
There is a story of a little girl who got home from visiting her friend later than expected. when her mother asked the reason for the delay, the child said, 'I was helping Jane. Her doll broke.' The mother asked "Did you help her fix it.?"
"No. I helped her cry."
My friend helped me cry today ...and she has all along ...knowing she can fix nothing for me and that this will always be my life. Perfect words.
And from another book First You Die, by Marie Levine
No Greater Pain
I know you mean well
But you don't understand
There are no words to explain
Although on the surface, I may appear fine,
Remember I buried a child of mine
And there is no greater pain
Grief is a taboo in our civilized world,
I despise the hideous game,
I must smile while going insane
For God's sake, a part of me died,
You can't imagine how often I've cried,
And there is no greater pain
If I look well
Or laugh when you joke,
You think I'm my old self again,
I'm raw inside, a shell of me,
The woman you knew can no longer be,
And there is no greater pain.
Look deep in my eyes
Acknowledge my loss,
As my heart beats its hollow refrain
I'm caught in a web of infinite whys
I'll mourn for my son 'till the rest of me dies,
And there is no greater pain.
by Madelaine Perri Kasden in memory of her son.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Today I read two things. First in Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief, something that captures my friend:
There is a story of a little girl who got home from visiting her friend later than expected. when her mother asked the reason for the delay, the child said, 'I was helping Jane. Her doll broke.' The mother asked "Did you help her fix it.?"
"No. I helped her cry."
My friend helped me cry today ...and she has all along ...knowing she can fix nothing for me and that this will always be my life. Perfect words.
And from another book First You Die, by Marie Levine
No Greater Pain
I know you mean well
But you don't understand
There are no words to explain
Although on the surface, I may appear fine,
Remember I buried a child of mine
And there is no greater pain
Grief is a taboo in our civilized world,
I despise the hideous game,
I must smile while going insane
For God's sake, a part of me died,
You can't imagine how often I've cried,
And there is no greater pain
If I look well
Or laugh when you joke,
You think I'm my old self again,
I'm raw inside, a shell of me,
The woman you knew can no longer be,
And there is no greater pain.
Look deep in my eyes
Acknowledge my loss,
As my heart beats its hollow refrain
I'm caught in a web of infinite whys
I'll mourn for my son 'till the rest of me dies,
And there is no greater pain.
by Madelaine Perri Kasden in memory of her son.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
A year ago today
One year ago today, at this very time, I sat typing on this keyboard, staring at the screen, afraid to hit the next button. Phoebe knelt next to me, her hand on my back. I had started to cry. The previous Friday I had taken the NCLEX exam, the nursing boards and my results were in that morning. I was certain I had failed. The questions were nothing like I expected, nothing I had practiced and reviewed. Questions, incomplete with necessary information for dosages, also asked me to prioritize my presentation at a conference I would be speaking at on the topic of schizophrenia. That would never happen as an LPN, I wanted to scream at the computer. Just over eighty questions the computer shut off ....either a very good sign, or a very bad sign. I could identify only four questions I knew I got right ...that's it. It was the feast day of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and several times throughout the test I bowed my head and begged for her intercession. After all, she knew my devotion, but that doesn't mean a free pass on worldly things ...doesn't mean I get what I want ...only what I need. So I really believed I had failed.
"Just press it Mom ...you passed, don't worry about it." I told her I didn't think I did. "What's the worst thing, you'd have to take it over ...big deal." I told her I couldn't imagine preparing again because I wouldn't even know how ...the questions were so arbitrary. She had giggled at me. I pressed the button. Only one word blazed on the screen to me, "pass". I sobbed ...and my girl fully held me and smiled and laughed and told me how she was proud of me. My other kids came running hearing me crying. Their worried faces were softened as Phoebe said "she's okay guys, she's okay ...she's just relieved." And then they all hugged me, one big jumble of kids, having no understanding of why I would worry about not passing. I was there mother, I could do anything.
But, there was one thing I couldn't do. One thing that blazes "fail" to me. I didn't and couldn't save my daughter.
Right now I wish it was last year, at this very time ...with her smile in my face. And then every step from that point on could be different. Every step up to Oct. 9 would be different, better, safer. I wish for that.
Life happens, and we wish we could change the tiniest detail ...the tiniest we are sure would have made the difference. One tiny thing that might have saved her. It's a lifetime struggle, I guess, when unimaginable, horrible things happen.
Other people's lives get rocked too, moments shattered by the evil of others. We wonder why God allows such things to happen ...at least I know some of us do. Our lives will never be the same, will never be whole in the way it once was ...and that ripples to everyone we know and love. And the cruel part, is watching and knowing that others walk away, getting what they want, while they've destroyed a life ...and the lives around them.
I do believe in God's justice. We tend to think of God in our culture as a new age sensitive kind of guy. But Christ told us loud and clear there would be an accounting. Not in this world maybe, but in the next. Of course God is all loving and forgiving. He forgives us when we recognize our sin, making a commitment to strive to not sin again. Christ never said, "hey whatever you do it's okay with me ...if it feels good do it." But in many, many ways, especially in our Churches, Christ has been reduced to that ....making Him culturally palatable ...making the Ten Commandments and truly following Him irrelevant ...even ridiculous ....even hate-filled and biggoted.. May God have mercy on us. I cannot imagine having to face my own faults and failings. I think about those with criminal minds, walking around looking all pretty, unsuspected of the evil they've done ...and I trust in God's justice. I trust Him in all things.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
"Just press it Mom ...you passed, don't worry about it." I told her I didn't think I did. "What's the worst thing, you'd have to take it over ...big deal." I told her I couldn't imagine preparing again because I wouldn't even know how ...the questions were so arbitrary. She had giggled at me. I pressed the button. Only one word blazed on the screen to me, "pass". I sobbed ...and my girl fully held me and smiled and laughed and told me how she was proud of me. My other kids came running hearing me crying. Their worried faces were softened as Phoebe said "she's okay guys, she's okay ...she's just relieved." And then they all hugged me, one big jumble of kids, having no understanding of why I would worry about not passing. I was there mother, I could do anything.
But, there was one thing I couldn't do. One thing that blazes "fail" to me. I didn't and couldn't save my daughter.
Right now I wish it was last year, at this very time ...with her smile in my face. And then every step from that point on could be different. Every step up to Oct. 9 would be different, better, safer. I wish for that.
Life happens, and we wish we could change the tiniest detail ...the tiniest we are sure would have made the difference. One tiny thing that might have saved her. It's a lifetime struggle, I guess, when unimaginable, horrible things happen.
Other people's lives get rocked too, moments shattered by the evil of others. We wonder why God allows such things to happen ...at least I know some of us do. Our lives will never be the same, will never be whole in the way it once was ...and that ripples to everyone we know and love. And the cruel part, is watching and knowing that others walk away, getting what they want, while they've destroyed a life ...and the lives around them.
I do believe in God's justice. We tend to think of God in our culture as a new age sensitive kind of guy. But Christ told us loud and clear there would be an accounting. Not in this world maybe, but in the next. Of course God is all loving and forgiving. He forgives us when we recognize our sin, making a commitment to strive to not sin again. Christ never said, "hey whatever you do it's okay with me ...if it feels good do it." But in many, many ways, especially in our Churches, Christ has been reduced to that ....making Him culturally palatable ...making the Ten Commandments and truly following Him irrelevant ...even ridiculous ....even hate-filled and biggoted.. May God have mercy on us. I cannot imagine having to face my own faults and failings. I think about those with criminal minds, walking around looking all pretty, unsuspected of the evil they've done ...and I trust in God's justice. I trust Him in all things.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Surviving
This summer is proving to be quite different than most. For years I spent my days with my kids at swimming and tennis lessons ...and at the beach. Summer was the season most suited to Phoebe. And so we remember her well, as we always do, but something different takes over in the warmth of the sun, the heaviness of humidity and the late setting sun. Time is freer, schedules are loose and gangly, meals take on a bohemian flare ...there's more time to consider what is missing, what's different. Phoebe is gone ...she is dead.
My time is occupied now working as a nurse, and now training for a new job that will ultimately work very well for our family. There is an upfront cost however that is leaving me with full days, too many away from my kids. We all know its temporary and my husband has been able to be with them when I'm not ...but still, I don't like being away so much. It will pass ...this demanding schedule. But as much as I don't like it, I am also grateful for it because it distracts me. This is a tough time for me, and I know God has given me something to use as a life raft ...something to help me hang on.
Just five minutes from my house is a nursing facility where I began my nursing career. Before laying down the money for school to become a nurse I thought it would be wise to work as a nurse's aide in this type of place. I figured if I liked that work in that sort of environment with those particular patients ...I'd be happy as a nurse. And so I began a new chapter just down the road a ways. I worked the overnight from 11 - 7, which worked well for my family. In the still of night time I forged some friendships with people much older than myself. Some of them enjoyed late night conversations ...and plenty of them held their rosary beads while they slept, prayer cards on their bedsides. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we prayed ....and sometimes I just had the honor of being in their presence. It has been a few years since that time. I couldn't juggle both school and work ...and school won out. It was my hope to return to this place as a nurse, and while plenty encouraged and assured me this would happen it took until now, a year later to find a position in this place. Honestly, I was a bit put out when they didn't even offer an interview last summer ...but I know now why ...all too well. Had I started there then I would have been bound to a regular schedule, one that didn't allow any flexibility ...because this place can't run on flexibility. Instead, I found a job somewhere else that gave flexible options with "flex time", with a boss that understood family life and all its demands. Right away I loved this job, the people I worked with and especially the people I got to serve as a nurse. And then Phoebe died. Just like that! In this place, God choreographed a series of events and conversations I didn't know at the time were preparing me for losing my precious girl. I've written of them before ...St. Padre Pio's image always on my path and two days before, not one but four of him, a conversation with a woman who had lost her daughter, witnessing her survival, and my hand touching hers telling her I couldn't imagine a worse pain and her nodding. I didn't know I would hold that same hand again weeks later as tears streamed both our faces as we remembered our girls and the smiles when we considered how our daughters know each other now ...just like their mothers do. That same day I had given a sewing thimble to another old friend of my mothers. They shared many years in friendship well before either married and I knew this women was sad over the loss of her husband. Something prompted me to wrap this keepsake and let her know I believed my mother wanted to offer her some comfort. I know now that my mother was letting me know she was near me as the dreaded day approached.?
When I called my boss to let her know my daughter had died and I wouldn't be at work there was a rush of love, support and prayers ...and a free ticket to whatever time I needed ...with a job waiting for me when I was ready. Had I worked elsewhere ...this would not have happened. And so, as He does, God wove the perfect tapestry for me ...and the place I had first wanted to work wasn't part of it. But I think now it is.
I'm training now for a per diem job, meaning I can tell them when I can work ...they don't usually hire for this and so I feel remarkably blessed ....and grateful.
Lots of people there are familiar to me ...both workers and residents. I don't know who knows that my Phoebe has died ...some do, but its old news now to most people, so not something that would make the circuit ...and that's okay with me. My second day training I walked the long corridor down to my old stomping ground ...only this time to the other side of the nurses station. Before I got there, a little wave and then a smile ...my old partner. I worked with her ...the two of us overnight, caring for 40 patients. I give her a hug ...she asks me to work the overnight ...maybe I say. At the desk I catch myself and fight back the torrent that wants to rush forward. Phoebe was such a part of this place for me ...she loved hearing the stories and she often sent me messages at the beginning of my shift and then early morning as I was finishing. Sometimes they were regular, other times funny ...and other times very teenagerish. My partner had a daughter the same age so we shared stories while our 23 year old nurse laughed, not so far away from being a teenager. The reminder is too strong in this moment ...and as quick as it comes there's a voice in my head "I'm right here mom, always right here. I'm so proud of you ...you've worked so hard ...I love you." I shake it off ...it's my own head wishing for something that can't be anymore. I ask God to not let me play those tricks on myself ..."please don't let me do that ...it hurts too much, don't let me pretend ...please God, don't let me pretend."
The day kicks off and I enter a familiar room, find the familiar bed ...and she is there. My little friend, opens her eyes wide and smiles. I smile back "do you remember me?". "Of course I do ...how are you ...how are the children?" she asks me. Their fine, I tell her ...no need to tell her all of it. I hold her hand and tell her how happy I am to see her ...and that I will see her again soon. A few hours pass as I learn this place from a different perspective when all of a sudden there is a great rush. She is being pushed back to her room, lifeless in her chair ...my friend. She is limp and not breathing and she is blue around her lips. For sure she is gone and I want to cry ...because I know her struggle ...her overwhelming sadness at losing her house, losing her ability to move on her own ...until finally she is chairbound. She is flat and her name is being screamed to rouse her and there is not breath and no pulse. Her eyes won't react. We do all we can ...and I pray "God, please let Phoebe greet her. Phoebe please take care of her ...this little old lady with no children, no husband, please guide her home to her Heavenly Father whom she loved so much despite her sadness. I beg for Phoebe to be there. "No mom, it's not her time." clear again in my head. I shake it off, my friend is dead. its been too long...and then ...a great gasp of air, the eyes flutter and open ....and a peaceful smile is there. And I wonder ...is this in my head ...or might it be real. Could it be that my great girl, my girl who I miss with every shattered piece of my heart , every moment of my day could possibly be with me still.
And if I could have just one moment to hold her, one moment to see her floppy bun, and hear her voice might I feel better ...be satisfied for the rest of my journey. Or am I asking for far too much. Perhaps these are the gifts, the best gifts, God will give to me for now ....and if they are his for me ...they are grand. In this place, people die. For most, it is their final place of residence. And it is a good place ...it is a home and they are so well loved. But they are close to the other side here.
One man has only weeks, perhaps days left ...he calls out to his wife ...long since gone. The family knows, knows this happens towards the end. I watch him while the others sadly shake their heads ...they don't want to lose him. They think its sad he talks to his wife. I stay quiet, pangs of jealousy "how lucky you are old man" I think. I long for that day ...to talk to her again. That longing cuts deep ...and grows deeper as time passes.
Summer this year is as it is for a reason. Our kids are playing hard, and living a full, rich life by the sea ...and their mom, Phoebe's mom ...I'm where I should be ...so my kids can be kids. It's different for sure, but I guess for now, it needs to be. I've entrusted it all to God ...and I trust Him. I do ...to help me survive as the shock of what's happened begins to fade and the real hard work of grieving begins...
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
My time is occupied now working as a nurse, and now training for a new job that will ultimately work very well for our family. There is an upfront cost however that is leaving me with full days, too many away from my kids. We all know its temporary and my husband has been able to be with them when I'm not ...but still, I don't like being away so much. It will pass ...this demanding schedule. But as much as I don't like it, I am also grateful for it because it distracts me. This is a tough time for me, and I know God has given me something to use as a life raft ...something to help me hang on.
Just five minutes from my house is a nursing facility where I began my nursing career. Before laying down the money for school to become a nurse I thought it would be wise to work as a nurse's aide in this type of place. I figured if I liked that work in that sort of environment with those particular patients ...I'd be happy as a nurse. And so I began a new chapter just down the road a ways. I worked the overnight from 11 - 7, which worked well for my family. In the still of night time I forged some friendships with people much older than myself. Some of them enjoyed late night conversations ...and plenty of them held their rosary beads while they slept, prayer cards on their bedsides. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we prayed ....and sometimes I just had the honor of being in their presence. It has been a few years since that time. I couldn't juggle both school and work ...and school won out. It was my hope to return to this place as a nurse, and while plenty encouraged and assured me this would happen it took until now, a year later to find a position in this place. Honestly, I was a bit put out when they didn't even offer an interview last summer ...but I know now why ...all too well. Had I started there then I would have been bound to a regular schedule, one that didn't allow any flexibility ...because this place can't run on flexibility. Instead, I found a job somewhere else that gave flexible options with "flex time", with a boss that understood family life and all its demands. Right away I loved this job, the people I worked with and especially the people I got to serve as a nurse. And then Phoebe died. Just like that! In this place, God choreographed a series of events and conversations I didn't know at the time were preparing me for losing my precious girl. I've written of them before ...St. Padre Pio's image always on my path and two days before, not one but four of him, a conversation with a woman who had lost her daughter, witnessing her survival, and my hand touching hers telling her I couldn't imagine a worse pain and her nodding. I didn't know I would hold that same hand again weeks later as tears streamed both our faces as we remembered our girls and the smiles when we considered how our daughters know each other now ...just like their mothers do. That same day I had given a sewing thimble to another old friend of my mothers. They shared many years in friendship well before either married and I knew this women was sad over the loss of her husband. Something prompted me to wrap this keepsake and let her know I believed my mother wanted to offer her some comfort. I know now that my mother was letting me know she was near me as the dreaded day approached.?
When I called my boss to let her know my daughter had died and I wouldn't be at work there was a rush of love, support and prayers ...and a free ticket to whatever time I needed ...with a job waiting for me when I was ready. Had I worked elsewhere ...this would not have happened. And so, as He does, God wove the perfect tapestry for me ...and the place I had first wanted to work wasn't part of it. But I think now it is.
I'm training now for a per diem job, meaning I can tell them when I can work ...they don't usually hire for this and so I feel remarkably blessed ....and grateful.
Lots of people there are familiar to me ...both workers and residents. I don't know who knows that my Phoebe has died ...some do, but its old news now to most people, so not something that would make the circuit ...and that's okay with me. My second day training I walked the long corridor down to my old stomping ground ...only this time to the other side of the nurses station. Before I got there, a little wave and then a smile ...my old partner. I worked with her ...the two of us overnight, caring for 40 patients. I give her a hug ...she asks me to work the overnight ...maybe I say. At the desk I catch myself and fight back the torrent that wants to rush forward. Phoebe was such a part of this place for me ...she loved hearing the stories and she often sent me messages at the beginning of my shift and then early morning as I was finishing. Sometimes they were regular, other times funny ...and other times very teenagerish. My partner had a daughter the same age so we shared stories while our 23 year old nurse laughed, not so far away from being a teenager. The reminder is too strong in this moment ...and as quick as it comes there's a voice in my head "I'm right here mom, always right here. I'm so proud of you ...you've worked so hard ...I love you." I shake it off ...it's my own head wishing for something that can't be anymore. I ask God to not let me play those tricks on myself ..."please don't let me do that ...it hurts too much, don't let me pretend ...please God, don't let me pretend."
The day kicks off and I enter a familiar room, find the familiar bed ...and she is there. My little friend, opens her eyes wide and smiles. I smile back "do you remember me?". "Of course I do ...how are you ...how are the children?" she asks me. Their fine, I tell her ...no need to tell her all of it. I hold her hand and tell her how happy I am to see her ...and that I will see her again soon. A few hours pass as I learn this place from a different perspective when all of a sudden there is a great rush. She is being pushed back to her room, lifeless in her chair ...my friend. She is limp and not breathing and she is blue around her lips. For sure she is gone and I want to cry ...because I know her struggle ...her overwhelming sadness at losing her house, losing her ability to move on her own ...until finally she is chairbound. She is flat and her name is being screamed to rouse her and there is not breath and no pulse. Her eyes won't react. We do all we can ...and I pray "God, please let Phoebe greet her. Phoebe please take care of her ...this little old lady with no children, no husband, please guide her home to her Heavenly Father whom she loved so much despite her sadness. I beg for Phoebe to be there. "No mom, it's not her time." clear again in my head. I shake it off, my friend is dead. its been too long...and then ...a great gasp of air, the eyes flutter and open ....and a peaceful smile is there. And I wonder ...is this in my head ...or might it be real. Could it be that my great girl, my girl who I miss with every shattered piece of my heart , every moment of my day could possibly be with me still.
And if I could have just one moment to hold her, one moment to see her floppy bun, and hear her voice might I feel better ...be satisfied for the rest of my journey. Or am I asking for far too much. Perhaps these are the gifts, the best gifts, God will give to me for now ....and if they are his for me ...they are grand. In this place, people die. For most, it is their final place of residence. And it is a good place ...it is a home and they are so well loved. But they are close to the other side here.
One man has only weeks, perhaps days left ...he calls out to his wife ...long since gone. The family knows, knows this happens towards the end. I watch him while the others sadly shake their heads ...they don't want to lose him. They think its sad he talks to his wife. I stay quiet, pangs of jealousy "how lucky you are old man" I think. I long for that day ...to talk to her again. That longing cuts deep ...and grows deeper as time passes.
Summer this year is as it is for a reason. Our kids are playing hard, and living a full, rich life by the sea ...and their mom, Phoebe's mom ...I'm where I should be ...so my kids can be kids. It's different for sure, but I guess for now, it needs to be. I've entrusted it all to God ...and I trust Him. I do ...to help me survive as the shock of what's happened begins to fade and the real hard work of grieving begins...
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Nine Months
It takes nine months for a new baby to grow enough to safely sustain living and breathing independent from his or her mother. Nine months, and one week really, for the imperceptible being, created by God, undeniably human in its smallness (regardless of contrary 'opinion', Truth is truth) to arrive.
It will be nine months tomorrow since I first started missing my girl. I feel as though I've just seen her this morning in the sense that I have lost nothing in how she moved spoke, sang, played ...complained, ate. Last night, at dusk, a skateboard made its way down our street ...the rolling of the wheels against pavement a familiar sound to me. Phoebe was mostly about sounds. If I looked up to find her, I would have smiled ...not surprised. But this person wore shoes, something Phoebe rarely did as she guided the board beneath her feet. It wasn't her.
It doesn't take nine months to let go. It's only nine months in ...on a long road home to her. There is a reason in God's perfectly designed plan why Phoebe left early. I won't know that reason for a long time perhaps, but I absolutely know Gods wisdom is greater than mine ...even when I want to refuse what He's given me.
It's a misty night here on the coast ...and its a busy house. Life has gone on ...with a robust energy, I think this is a blessing. There is no time for Phoebe's parents to linger over their loss, their missing. Our job, our obligation is to show our children the abundance of life ...to appreciate and savor the moments God grants us ...even in the mundane.
We park by the beach for a few minutes and look over the rocks, the sand, into the ocean, the Atlantic ...her ocean. I could never count the times she spent in its waves. She was a water girl.
It's a known pattern now ...the agitation, sadness ...settling in around the 9th of each month. That day belongs to her, and the anticipation of its arrival disturbs us, makes life a bit harder, makes God a bit more fleeting and absent.
I realize as the salty air washes over us that as much as I have bonded with this man through seven births and five miscarriages ... it is the death of this daughter, our daughter, Phoebe, that forces a bond far deeper and wider even than those births. It's not to say that the loss of her makes our love for our others less ...but our language limits us in words, and there simply are none for what this does, has done to us. The chronic ache of missing he has, I know. And when the weight of that is unbearable for this dad so tied to his oldest daughter, I see ...and can brace him just enough. And when I cry out the questions of where I failed, and ask why God has chosen this for us, why, after so much, and striving so hard and deliberately to serve Him, only Him, He would allow us to live with this deep wound for the rest of our lives ...my husband knows those questions.
We lost her together, we sent her off that morning, a typical morning ...together, we were together when we got the most horrible phone call to come home, we held her together and blessed her. We said farewell to her and together prayed for her. Together we offered her back to God ...and buried her. Together we live without her ...each day we wake knowing she is gone. And when one cannot see the promise of eternity, the other reminds with certainty and great, great hope.
Because we believe ...and because we trust God so completely with a wild, seemingly insane and impractical (given the worldly score card) assurance, we have hope.
Nine months ...of missing, remembering, praying, hoping ...and waiting for that precious day when I see her again.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
It will be nine months tomorrow since I first started missing my girl. I feel as though I've just seen her this morning in the sense that I have lost nothing in how she moved spoke, sang, played ...complained, ate. Last night, at dusk, a skateboard made its way down our street ...the rolling of the wheels against pavement a familiar sound to me. Phoebe was mostly about sounds. If I looked up to find her, I would have smiled ...not surprised. But this person wore shoes, something Phoebe rarely did as she guided the board beneath her feet. It wasn't her.
It doesn't take nine months to let go. It's only nine months in ...on a long road home to her. There is a reason in God's perfectly designed plan why Phoebe left early. I won't know that reason for a long time perhaps, but I absolutely know Gods wisdom is greater than mine ...even when I want to refuse what He's given me.
It's a misty night here on the coast ...and its a busy house. Life has gone on ...with a robust energy, I think this is a blessing. There is no time for Phoebe's parents to linger over their loss, their missing. Our job, our obligation is to show our children the abundance of life ...to appreciate and savor the moments God grants us ...even in the mundane.
We park by the beach for a few minutes and look over the rocks, the sand, into the ocean, the Atlantic ...her ocean. I could never count the times she spent in its waves. She was a water girl.
It's a known pattern now ...the agitation, sadness ...settling in around the 9th of each month. That day belongs to her, and the anticipation of its arrival disturbs us, makes life a bit harder, makes God a bit more fleeting and absent.
I realize as the salty air washes over us that as much as I have bonded with this man through seven births and five miscarriages ... it is the death of this daughter, our daughter, Phoebe, that forces a bond far deeper and wider even than those births. It's not to say that the loss of her makes our love for our others less ...but our language limits us in words, and there simply are none for what this does, has done to us. The chronic ache of missing he has, I know. And when the weight of that is unbearable for this dad so tied to his oldest daughter, I see ...and can brace him just enough. And when I cry out the questions of where I failed, and ask why God has chosen this for us, why, after so much, and striving so hard and deliberately to serve Him, only Him, He would allow us to live with this deep wound for the rest of our lives ...my husband knows those questions.
We lost her together, we sent her off that morning, a typical morning ...together, we were together when we got the most horrible phone call to come home, we held her together and blessed her. We said farewell to her and together prayed for her. Together we offered her back to God ...and buried her. Together we live without her ...each day we wake knowing she is gone. And when one cannot see the promise of eternity, the other reminds with certainty and great, great hope.
Because we believe ...and because we trust God so completely with a wild, seemingly insane and impractical (given the worldly score card) assurance, we have hope.
Nine months ...of missing, remembering, praying, hoping ...and waiting for that precious day when I see her again.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Monday, July 4, 2011
And the Winner Is ....
Victory .... It was a close race, probably 30 secs apart. There is a new winner! But everyone looked great.
And the valiant contender is off to deliver baby's ...God's work. He literally ran the race to his car and then drove to the hospital.
Happy Fourth! Be safe and well.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
And the valiant contender is off to deliver baby's ...God's work. He literally ran the race to his car and then drove to the hospital.
Happy Fourth! Be safe and well.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Independence Day
I have a thousand thoughts racing through my head tonight. So bear with me as I ramble. I have lots of drafts written over the past many days ...all works in progress, but tonight I'll just share a few bits and pieces as we ready for July 4th ...and all that means.
Fireworks from a neighboring town have been exploding in our background for some time now. I'm sure there were others mixed in. We live on the coast (lucky us!) so shoreline invites people to private displays. Its three days of nonstop explosives ...and it is truly, truly fun. Last night we had our own crowd here at home and later, as the sun went to bed, we meandered a few minutes down the road to watch our town's display over the Harbor. It was spectacular. I had told Owen, who turned eight on Friday, that was my gift to him and we'd open it to the public. He believed every bit of it ...until his sister tipped him off. One of my friends overheard Mary Claire (5) ask into the night sky, "why does Owen ALWAYS get fireworks for his birthday?" Her March birthday doesn't really lend itself to fireworks. Oh well!
We'll watch an early morning road race to see friends gallop past. I will have a nice cup of coffee and a good chat with a friend on the sidelines. I really just am watching the race for two people to see who wins. There is a funny story here ...Last November, with Phoebe's death so fresh, our fabulous friends organized "Phoebe's Team" to run a Thanksgiving road race. It was such a generous and comforting effort on their part, that really gave purpose to a day that hung heavy for all of us. Other friends registered and joined as part of the team to run that day as well ...and it was word of mouth, so most people didn't know each other. I had fun taking pics at the finish line, cheering people on as I watched my beautiful daughters face come towards me over and over. After the race, I introduced some people to each other ...and as it turned out ...the force behind the road race met his competitor. He had paced himself according to another man and had tried to push ahead to pass this guy ...but, he never did (although he looked incredibly fit and in good form as he crossed the finish!). So the competitors met ...one not knowing he was being raced against. But tomorrow is a new day and a new race ...and they are both running ...and they both know each other ....and they will fight to the finish ...and I wouldn't miss this for the world. So I'll be at the finish line to see ...who ...will ...WIN.
And of course, there is the quintessential Fourth of July parade down Main Street ...which is another good social time.
But the best of the best is the night when we head to Nantasket Beach. Today, as we were heading home from Mass, I had a few extra with me. The anticipation was running high. Without exception, each of them claimed this particular night to be the night of all nights, the event of all events ....Fourth of July on Nantasket Beach is nothing short of INSANE. And, we tirelessly make our way there each year. We pack dinner and sweatshirts. We should, but never have, packed a first aid kit. I'm not sure I should even admit this, but we go to true amateur fireworks on the beach. We put our own lives, and the lives of our children in danger. We know this ...and yet, year after year, we return. One year it rained. I called my friend, "what should we do, it's raining?" "And?" she asked me. "Well, maybe we shouldn't go." "Oh, we're going, you're going ....no matter what." I knew I'd be in big, big trouble if I bailed. So off I went. We sat on the beach in drizzle for an hour, finally it stopped. Now our kids expect this, the disappointment if plans changed would be profound. Most of the dialogue among the adults is "ok, someone's going to get hurt" "get a head count" "that guy has no idea what he's doing" "has anyone seen so and so?" "everyone move to the left, we're in range". We wait for that moment when the sober people are clearly the minority and we know it's at the edge ...in the dark we gather our things, race to cars and drive away. We listen to the chatter and clatter of kids, sticky, yucky and sandy ...very, very sandy. We may be driving our own kids, but perhaps not ...the mad dash just causes us to jump into the first car we see of the group and we're hopeful every kid has made it. To date, we've lost no one.
But this year, we will be one less. I've often thought of that moment last summer ...Phoebe, Deirdre and Alyssa huddled together ....giggling, the little girls running back and forth from them, jumping on laps, snuggling for a few moments with the big girls ...and then dashing away. I wish I could see that again tomorrow night. But wishing doesn't make it happen.
All this celebration ...observing our 'freedom', celebrating the victory of all that liberty ...it's a good thing, a very good thing. But I wonder now what that all means. I think we've changed the definition of 'freedom', made a mockery of it in some ways. Today, freedom means doing whatever you want. Our culture tells us this over and over again ...if it feels right, do it. If you want it, take it, you should have it. If it offends someone ...too bad they'll just have to 'put up and shut up.' But if it offends you, well ...then, "those hatemongers" should be punished. Freedom has a new definition now ...of selfishness, really ...getting whatever you want, whenever you want. That's not true freedom though.
Tonight we heard a homily that talked about his very thing ...freedom. There is great freedom in choosing Christ ..real freedom, because it acknowledges that we belong to God, that we have a Creator. So lots and lots of people are more than happy to call themselves followers of Christ. But what's so often forgotten is there's a cost ...and that cost is obligation and responsibility. If we follow Christ, we must follow Him. Not our own whims and desires, not our own politically correct, watered down version of the Ten Commandments, not our own revisions of His teachings, of the Church's teachings ...We have a responsibility to live and teach and spread His truth ...even in a hostile world that rejects the true teachings far more often than it embraces them. I have a friend who so eloquently teaches her children that for something to have worth, it must cost us something personally ...it must hurt a bit. Not so much physically, but in a way that demands us to give away a part of our selfishness ...to give as if we are offering precious coins ...to give truly of ourselves. That is true freedom ...giving ...not getting. I guess for me I find freedom in losing Phoebe only when I truly offer her back to God, as painful as that is and as much as I don't want to ...rather than waiting to get her back ...or getting something to make it go away. We only truly 'get' when we truly 'give' without expectation ...
Look at all Christ gave us on the Cross ...He gave all. Even while knowing, not only the mockery and rejection of that day, but our day, today in our world, too. He still gave ...without getting. That's the freedom I want in my life. That's true freedom ....and it only comes from God.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Fireworks from a neighboring town have been exploding in our background for some time now. I'm sure there were others mixed in. We live on the coast (lucky us!) so shoreline invites people to private displays. Its three days of nonstop explosives ...and it is truly, truly fun. Last night we had our own crowd here at home and later, as the sun went to bed, we meandered a few minutes down the road to watch our town's display over the Harbor. It was spectacular. I had told Owen, who turned eight on Friday, that was my gift to him and we'd open it to the public. He believed every bit of it ...until his sister tipped him off. One of my friends overheard Mary Claire (5) ask into the night sky, "why does Owen ALWAYS get fireworks for his birthday?" Her March birthday doesn't really lend itself to fireworks. Oh well!
We'll watch an early morning road race to see friends gallop past. I will have a nice cup of coffee and a good chat with a friend on the sidelines. I really just am watching the race for two people to see who wins. There is a funny story here ...Last November, with Phoebe's death so fresh, our fabulous friends organized "Phoebe's Team" to run a Thanksgiving road race. It was such a generous and comforting effort on their part, that really gave purpose to a day that hung heavy for all of us. Other friends registered and joined as part of the team to run that day as well ...and it was word of mouth, so most people didn't know each other. I had fun taking pics at the finish line, cheering people on as I watched my beautiful daughters face come towards me over and over. After the race, I introduced some people to each other ...and as it turned out ...the force behind the road race met his competitor. He had paced himself according to another man and had tried to push ahead to pass this guy ...but, he never did (although he looked incredibly fit and in good form as he crossed the finish!). So the competitors met ...one not knowing he was being raced against. But tomorrow is a new day and a new race ...and they are both running ...and they both know each other ....and they will fight to the finish ...and I wouldn't miss this for the world. So I'll be at the finish line to see ...who ...will ...WIN.
And of course, there is the quintessential Fourth of July parade down Main Street ...which is another good social time.
But the best of the best is the night when we head to Nantasket Beach. Today, as we were heading home from Mass, I had a few extra with me. The anticipation was running high. Without exception, each of them claimed this particular night to be the night of all nights, the event of all events ....Fourth of July on Nantasket Beach is nothing short of INSANE. And, we tirelessly make our way there each year. We pack dinner and sweatshirts. We should, but never have, packed a first aid kit. I'm not sure I should even admit this, but we go to true amateur fireworks on the beach. We put our own lives, and the lives of our children in danger. We know this ...and yet, year after year, we return. One year it rained. I called my friend, "what should we do, it's raining?" "And?" she asked me. "Well, maybe we shouldn't go." "Oh, we're going, you're going ....no matter what." I knew I'd be in big, big trouble if I bailed. So off I went. We sat on the beach in drizzle for an hour, finally it stopped. Now our kids expect this, the disappointment if plans changed would be profound. Most of the dialogue among the adults is "ok, someone's going to get hurt" "get a head count" "that guy has no idea what he's doing" "has anyone seen so and so?" "everyone move to the left, we're in range". We wait for that moment when the sober people are clearly the minority and we know it's at the edge ...in the dark we gather our things, race to cars and drive away. We listen to the chatter and clatter of kids, sticky, yucky and sandy ...very, very sandy. We may be driving our own kids, but perhaps not ...the mad dash just causes us to jump into the first car we see of the group and we're hopeful every kid has made it. To date, we've lost no one.
But this year, we will be one less. I've often thought of that moment last summer ...Phoebe, Deirdre and Alyssa huddled together ....giggling, the little girls running back and forth from them, jumping on laps, snuggling for a few moments with the big girls ...and then dashing away. I wish I could see that again tomorrow night. But wishing doesn't make it happen.
All this celebration ...observing our 'freedom', celebrating the victory of all that liberty ...it's a good thing, a very good thing. But I wonder now what that all means. I think we've changed the definition of 'freedom', made a mockery of it in some ways. Today, freedom means doing whatever you want. Our culture tells us this over and over again ...if it feels right, do it. If you want it, take it, you should have it. If it offends someone ...too bad they'll just have to 'put up and shut up.' But if it offends you, well ...then, "those hatemongers" should be punished. Freedom has a new definition now ...of selfishness, really ...getting whatever you want, whenever you want. That's not true freedom though.
Tonight we heard a homily that talked about his very thing ...freedom. There is great freedom in choosing Christ ..real freedom, because it acknowledges that we belong to God, that we have a Creator. So lots and lots of people are more than happy to call themselves followers of Christ. But what's so often forgotten is there's a cost ...and that cost is obligation and responsibility. If we follow Christ, we must follow Him. Not our own whims and desires, not our own politically correct, watered down version of the Ten Commandments, not our own revisions of His teachings, of the Church's teachings ...We have a responsibility to live and teach and spread His truth ...even in a hostile world that rejects the true teachings far more often than it embraces them. I have a friend who so eloquently teaches her children that for something to have worth, it must cost us something personally ...it must hurt a bit. Not so much physically, but in a way that demands us to give away a part of our selfishness ...to give as if we are offering precious coins ...to give truly of ourselves. That is true freedom ...giving ...not getting. I guess for me I find freedom in losing Phoebe only when I truly offer her back to God, as painful as that is and as much as I don't want to ...rather than waiting to get her back ...or getting something to make it go away. We only truly 'get' when we truly 'give' without expectation ...
Look at all Christ gave us on the Cross ...He gave all. Even while knowing, not only the mockery and rejection of that day, but our day, today in our world, too. He still gave ...without getting. That's the freedom I want in my life. That's true freedom ....and it only comes from God.
Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
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