Another year passes.
Passes my daughter by.
Twelve turns to thirteen.
Fourth turns to fifth.
I go to the supermarket. On my own. A strange and momentous occasion. I feel light headed, half drunk already in a prefiguring of champagne.
And my eyes fall on the girls, always the girls.
The girls that my daughter will never be. Here five, here nine, here thirteen. Maybe. I've never been good at discerning ages. So much variation. But not here.
Her particular brand of dissimilarity is extinct.
The years accumulate on my skin. A patina. Layer upon layer of experiences. Good and bad. Mottle my skin as surely as the age spots and wrinkles. I thicken. Accumulate. Greedily. Helplessly. Hoarding days and months and years. Unwillingly.
That which I would have given away. Given half a chance.
Another year. Another layer.
How I wish I could grant it to my daughter.
But she slipped free. No layers. No experiences. No burnishing required.
Free.
It may pass her by.
But, somehow, I doubt that she cares. Or even notices.
How you fill the space with my own words sometime.
ReplyDeleteI hear you. I'm there too. It never fades, at least, almsot 5 years in, it hasnt for me.
Happy 2013 sweetie. May this year be kind to us all.
Your writing is such a beautiful love letter to Georgina. I wonder how tremendously lovely your music would be if you chose to express yourself through song.
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year dear Catherine! Thank you so much for writing, writing me back, and putting to words so much of what my sad heart feels. You have been a life line for me these past months.
xoxo,
J
Oh yes, the girls. I do that too.
ReplyDeleteHere I am, my fourth Christmas without Florence, and there are still so many to come, all without, more layers to come. You describe it so perfectly.
Love to you for the coming year Catherine. x
Thinking of you, honoring Georgina, as we enter this new year.
ReplyDeleteyes, I see the boys, the little boys, the bigger boys, and the boys that my boy will never be and never know.
ReplyDeleteI am aging so quickly now.
This is a lovely piece, Catherine <3
Your writing pierces the heart. I have a daughter, aged nearly eighteen, who is severely disabled, both cognitively and physically. While I have long left the days of wondering who she might have been, I am still struck, every now and then, by a heavy, heavy weight -- particularly when I see girls, typical girls, her age. It never gets easier although I know now that it passes -- that feeling, that weight.
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful. This is my first Christmas without my daughter, she was born in March. It's been rough, and it didn't help my outlook that no one in either of our families acknowledged her and why this would be a difficult holiday season. But it helps to know that there are others out there who have been through it & feel the same thing, that longing and missing.
ReplyDeleteThank you, so much, for sharing this. It spoke to me deeply, although I wish it didn't.
ReplyDeleteI see Molly everywhere, too. And nowhere. People who haven't lost a child just don't understand how every joyful occurrence and mundane life event is simultaneously very painful because we think about our children who aren't here. The only other person who I want to share life with besides my husband is gone forever.
ReplyDeleteMissing Molly and Georgina and all of our babies. Tears. xo
For me it's the sisters playing together, skipping along holding hands behind their mothers. Just tears at my heart...even now.
ReplyDeleteBut, R feels separate from this longing for me too. I can't even tell if I really miss her anymore because she is always here (in a peculiar way)
Wishing you a wonderful 2013.
I understand this, the patina. The layers of missing. Wishing you a peaceful 2013.
ReplyDeletexo
Sending love and light to you in this new year.. another year without our babies.. xxx my friend.
ReplyDelete