My daughter, Michelle, died when she was 8 from Reyes Syndrome. That was in 1974, years ago, before doctors knew anything about Reyes and its connection to aspirin. It has taken me a long time and many moods and stages to get to this year, this day, this book. Most of the poems within these chapters were written within a period of 30 years, especially during her birth month, October and death month, February. It is my hope that these poems will help others ... they have certainly helped me. I was young when she died and could hardly feel alive without her.
Mourning is complicated, and yet, most people go through similar stages of grief. When Michelle died, I had no idea what to do or how to feel. I just wanted Michelle back, was angry at God, and buried in depression and denial. I have learned many things since then and feel that her life and death were the birth-place of a knowledge and peace that I would not have, had she not played her part.
It is my belief that she and I agreed on this before either of us were born into this life. As souls we committed to the way it happened. She sure kept her part, and I am finally learning my own. This is my gift to her and her gift to me. We would both like to share it.
Looking for You, Finding Me
Trying to find you
when the sky sends warmth
to February
and all the scattered down clouds
have gone to other grief,
I realize,
to be sleeveless
and skip into your place in time
with a smile,
is not about looking for you,
but about finding me.
Mourning is complicated, and yet, most people go through similar stages of grief. When Michelle died, I had no idea what to do or how to feel. I just wanted Michelle back, was angry at God, and buried in depression and denial. I have learned many things since then and feel that her life and death were the birth-place of a knowledge and peace that I would not have, had she not played her part.
It is my belief that she and I agreed on this before either of us were born into this life. As souls we committed to the way it happened. She sure kept her part, and I am finally learning my own. This is my gift to her and her gift to me. We would both like to share it.
Looking for You, Finding Me
Trying to find you
when the sky sends warmth
to February
and all the scattered down clouds
have gone to other grief,
I realize,
to be sleeveless
and skip into your place in time
with a smile,
is not about looking for you,
but about finding me.
This was a poem and story that made me quiet, thinking of all those who came into and into my life and disappeared - and yet changed it forever.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing this.