He is irritable, squirming, plump, glorious, in my arms.
Glossy and new.
With a yellow pimple on his chin.
She is ash. Gone to ashes.
We put her cot up today. The cot she never slept in. Paid for a thousand years ago.
Although it was never used, it has been chipped from its trips up and down the ladder to our attic.
It looks second hand.
I'm sure there must be a word, loaned from German or from Dutch, that captures my state of mind. Perhaps there is an English one. I've just never happened upon it.
That of trying to construct sense from something you know to be chaos. To spin sense from sense-less.
Because you need something to hang your hat on.
Of forcing yourself to find beauty and meaning in something that you know has neither of those qualities.
To drag them out of this mess by sheer force of will.
Of perfecting the art of fooling yourself that there is something meaningful and beautiful lurking under all that mud. And there just might be. Or perhaps that is simply a double bluff.
But.
Even if it is just for a short time that you are fooled.
Even if the beauty and meaning that you construct flicker in and out of focus, slither out of your grasp.
Even if you know that you put them there yourself, for yourself to find.
It is enough.
I wish I had the gift of being able to put words to all this, the way you have Catherine. This is beautiful and so true.Seems almost silly to say that,but I have anyway. x
ReplyDeleteIt is enough. It has to be, doesn't it? Thinking of you so much tomorrow and for these next few weeks, wishing they did not carry the weight that they do. Much love, Catherine.
ReplyDeleteYes, it is enough, isn't it. So well said. May the beauty and meaning flicker into focus often for you in this month of so much.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful post Catherine.
ReplyDeleteSo true to find a way of putting some sort of positive spin on your loss, our losses. To live with the negative of it all, all the time is overwhelming.
Something to hang your hat on indeed.
God I wish she was here, I wish he was here. I just wish babies didn't die. x
"Even if the beauty and meaning that you construct flicker in and out of focus, slither out of your grasp."
ReplyDeleteYes - I think that is how you know they are true - because they never stop moving. Because the truth itself constantly cycles between beauty and gore, meaningfulness and wretchedness. It is a bit of a 'double bluff' to believe in both, but they are both absolutely true.
Sending lots of love as late August swings your way xxxh
Just beautiful. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteNo rambling comment today!
xo
"Even if you know that you put them there yourself, for yourself to find. It is enough."
ReplyDeleteExactly. Because what else is there to do? We could either spend out lives looking at piles of rubbish and shit-covered fans. Or find beauty in the debris and build something pretty out of it. Still rubbish... but pretty. (Obviously the mosaic-fairy speaking).
If there is a word for your state of mind in my language... I have yet to come across it. But I bet it has at least 12 syllables.
Feeling the weight of August right along with you. xoxo
Sometimes I wonder what kind of word that could actually capture what you've described. It's an awful feeling, being stuck in that place, with those feelings. It must be an equally awful word, if it's out there.
ReplyDeleteYou are beautiful, and I find so much truth in all of your words. My love
ReplyDeleteits all to much and not enough. all at the same time.
ReplyDeletexoxo
lis
Oh, love to the little brother, and to your girls, and to you. I'm glad he will sleep in her cot, and I'm so glad for this post - it is enough, sometimes.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness for that.
"That of trying to construct sense from something you know to be chaos. To spin sense from sense-less."
ReplyDeleteYes ...that sums up the past (almost) three years totally
Oh my. Once again I am just blown away by the beauty of your words. Trying to find the beauty in the shitstorm is somedays so hard, and yet there it is. Almost.
ReplyDeleteSending love.
For me, I think I do this so I don't make myself crazy. Afterall, there has to be some good, something, that comes from all this, right?
ReplyDeleteI don't know if one could survive without, at least on occasion, being able to find some sort of sense in all this chaos.
ReplyDelete...thinking of you as the end of the month approaches.
Your writing is so eloquent and raw and beautiful. I wish I could write like you. You honor your children beautifully xoxoxoxoxo Love, Nan
ReplyDeletePerfectly written. xo
ReplyDeleteNo words today. Just sighs and nods. xo
ReplyDelete"Even if the beauty and meaning that you construct flicker in and out of focus, slither out of your grasp."
ReplyDeleteLike Hanen said, can this movement be a measure of their truth? The big stuff, the really important stuff, always seems to slip in and out of focus. There is such beauty and humanity in your words.
Love to you. xo
it has to be the truth if it comes from you, even if you put it there to fool yourself, thinking of you catherine, x anne, harveys mum x
ReplyDeletePerfectly written. xoxo
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Catherine. If there isn't a word, there should be.
ReplyDelete