I went to listen to Kate Rusby sing on Friday night.
If you've been reading for a while, you will know that I love Kate Rusby. I've posted many of her songs here over the years. Her album, Awkward Annie, was probably one of the pieces of music that I played most frequently whilst I was pregnant with the twins. It makes me smile that the girls might have heard her voice singing during the short time in which I was pregnant and they would have been able to hear. I picked Awkward Annie up once again after Jessica had been transferred to special care and I could play music on the ward - one of the very few advantages of MRSA is that you get to have a biohazard sticker stuck to the door of your private room and you can play music.
There is one song from that album, Daughter of Heaven, that I can hardly bear to listen to as it reminds me so of my sweet girl. I tried to play it once in the car and even my husband, not known for sentimentality, asked me to turn it off as he couldn't stand it. I've played it occasionally but only for her birthday and for one other little girl that the song reminds me of.
I went to hear Kate Rusby sing, with my younger sister. I left the children sleeping.
She has such a beautiful warm voice, two little girls and a handsome husband who plays guitar on the stage with her. It would be easy to be jealous but she is so kindly. And I try not be envious these days.
I was a bit worried that she might sing Daughter of Heaven and I would end up in a mess.
She didn't sing it.
But she sang a different song that resulted in the same, sorry mess. And the sweet, kind, warm fingers of my sister's hand pressed against mine. Because she knew what I was thinking of. What I am always thinking of.
As I cried in the still darkness of the theatre.
It's a song called The Unquiet Grave.
And there is only one unquiet grave in our family and only one mourner who cannot stop mourning. There is one person who, wherever you take her, whatever you talk about, whatever transpires.
Goes back to a grave.
A small grave.
With one set of footprints around the edges.
I'm sorry that I will not let you sleep, my sweetheart. My dearest daughter.
Because I don't want you to be in a grave, unquiet or otherwise.
But it is so. Well now . . . you are not actually, in truth, in a grave as your body was cremated.
So you are ashes.
Which is as good as a grave.
Just as final.
You still must leave.
And I must leave you.
So turn in.
Turn in my sweetheart.
Turn into your grave.
Because you must. The world is not for you. I am not for you.
I wish that it were otherwise.
I wish that so very much.
With all my heart.
Until I turn in myself.
Until I turn into my grave.
And leave this world.
Perhaps to join you?
I miss you.
I always will.
I love you.
How pleasant is the wind tonight
I feel some drops of rain
I never had but one true love
In greenwood he lies slain
I'll do so much for my true love
As any young girl may
I'll sit and mourn all on your grave
For twelve months and a day
The twelve months and a day being up
The ghost began to speak
Why sit you here and mourn for me
And you will not let me sleep
What do you want of me sweetheart
Oh what it is you crave
Just one kiss of your lily white lips
And that is all I crave
Oh don't you see the fire sweetheart
The fire that burns so blue
Where my poor soul tormented is
All for the love of you
And if you weren't my own sweetheart
As I know you well to be
I'd rend you up in pieces small
As leaves upon a tree
Mourn not for me my dearest dear
Mourn not for me I crave
I must leave you and all the world
And turn into my grave
Traditional ballad
Thought to date from around 1400
I've deleted the posts that I published past this point. The more I write, the more I think that I should have ended here.
ReplyDeleteThis song, this post, perhaps they were the last thing I have left to say to my Georgina. Just as it has been the final thing that many people have said to their dead loved ones for centuries.
The third verse says why I cannot continue. Because it is mutually destructive. The apple falls so far from this tree as to be unrecognisable. The distance between this mother and her daughter. I cannot bridge it, as much as I might try.
She is dead. I am alive. I wish it were otherwise. Until I turn into my grave.
I miss you.
I always will.
I love you.
My dear daughter.
My Georgina.
Rest now.
Catherine,
DeleteI understand this. I also had to silence my blog. I needed a place to put voice to all that was inside me after Logen died. I needed a place to process that didn't destroy those around me. They couldn't handle my grief, I couldn't handle my grief. There was nothing in my life experience to draw on to cope with that pregnancy and the 6 short hours of his life. The very worst of my grief is still there. but the posts became less and less, not because I didn't still grieve but because it no longer helped me heal. I found wonderful support there. But when I started it it was because I almost didn't have a choice, I needed to say and process my son's life and death, i needed a place to put words to my grief. And all of the sudden that need was gone. I still grieve, but I have nothing to post. I started to feel like being on my blog was actually a disservice to his memory, because I had said all that my heart had to say and everything else was not about Logen anymore. I understand this. But also know that your words, your processing has been a beautiful addition to my life, You have so often spoken the feelings that I still had inside me that no longer had a voice on my blog. Much love to you Dear Catherine. Much love for your children, all of them. They are lucky to be loved so deeply and completely as they are. we are none of us perfect parents but losing a child helped me to understand that I can love perfectly, completely. You have done that beautifully. I wish you the best in this journey. Please if you ever need your voice to be heard, drop a comment on my silent blog. I have left it there. NOt sure why. But I would answer you.
Much Love,
Leanne, Logen's mommy
Thank you for understanding Leanne. I used to wonder why so many blogs ended in silence. But I think I understand now. I'm not going to delete this place, just as your blog still remains open, but it may fall silent. Like you, I can't quite articulate why? When I wrote this post back in November, I felt, strongly, that this was the end. As though Georgina had put her hand on my shoulder and asked me to release her. But I couldn't bear to give her up. Now . . . I think I should?
DeleteI thought I would be able to write about Georgina forever. Perhaps I can. But, at the moment, I feel stalled and that I am only hurting myself when I keep on trying to express my feelings as words on a screen.
You are so right, this is not because I don't grieve any more. But because writing doesn't ease me like it once did? The very worst is still here but . . . there is no healing to be had through writing anymore? It gets better and it doesn't, both at once.
I will remember your dear son, Logen. Whenever I hear from you, I see his beautiful photograph in my mind.
And, again, I can only echo your thoughts. That none of us are perfect parents. But I do believe that one of the strange gifts of this situation is that complete love. The gratitude, the feeling of being blessed, even in the midst of chaos!
I'm fairly certain that I may pop up again on your blog.
Love to you Leanne. Always remembering your beautiful son, Logen, and thank you for your kind and wise words over the years xo
Hey beautiful - you've done a wonderful job. You've honoured your daughter; you've worked through certain areas of your grief....you've done what you came to do; what was given to you to do. You did it with grace, with love, and with honour. Rest now indeed...both of you. Maybe it's just for a time; maybe not - it doesn't matter. I'm proud of you.
ReplyDeleteI'm in the midst of Oliver's days right now...his birthday was friday (the 15th); the anniversary of his death this friday. I hate it - that he's still gone; that I'm still hit so hard by it...but it's right that it is too in a weird way. Who knows I guess.
We won't forget Georgina. Not ever. And I love you but you know that already. I hope our sporadic email chats can continue and that one of these days we can connect for that drink in person.
Love you.
C.