I realize I am the hermit crab in this story. I am in the “darkness of a shell folded like a pastry.” I am turning away “against the light” and the author “looking in.” But I am also choosing a house from the “pearly rubble” the sea has brought me and continuing along the tideline.
Read MoreYou were like a flower
not yet unfurled
remarkable in all your promise
tender in all your delicacy
You were like a dream
I awoke from
too early
When I think of your music, of the music that connects me to you, I think of the word from Old Irish, to keen, to lament loudly over the dead. There is a part of me that’s always keening for you. And that part longs to sing — to sing, as if you were still alive, as if you needed me to sing you to sleep, to sing you awake, to comfort you with my voice.
Read MoreChild(ren). Child(ren)? No, no (ren). No Ren. Just the one child and no (ren). Just my son M and no Ren. I can’t figure out what I’m checking a box for. I authorize payment for my child but not for my Ren. He’s not here. He died. That means his body does not work anymore. I still can’t make sense of it. What a strange combination of symbols and letters. My Ren, my sweet boy, just an echo between parentheses.
A lifetime of love — more more more — not of a living body, but of one beyond the physical — love felt in the network of cells that remember and ache — rocks gathered on the shore — reciting these poems — simply saying the name, Charles Wallace, and I love you — it's catching that baby up too.
Read MoreYou’re remembering, you’re feeling, you’re disappearing, you’re thinking, you’re learning, you’re listening, you’re trying, you’re struggling, you’re growing, you’re loving, you’re crying, you're holding, you're living.
Read MoreBereaved parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion, and the other side of getting through this mess called grief.
what is this place?
the contributors
comment policy
contact
Parents of lost babies and potential of all kinds: come here to share the technicolour, the vividness, the despair, the heart-broken-open, the compassion we learn for others, having been through this mess — and see it reflected back at you, acknowledged and understood.
Thanks to photographer Xin Li and to artist Stephanie Sicore for their respective illustrations and photos.
: for one and all
: ttc | pregnancy | birth after loss
: not ttc | infertility after loss
: parenting after loss
: on the bookshelf
: how to stop lactation when there is no baby
: how to help a friend through babyloss
: how to plan a baby's funeral
subscribe
COPYRIGHT © 2019 GLOW IN THE WOODS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO UNAUTHORIZED REUSE.
