Transformation
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i need the reminder that what once was
will become again
that what is hidden will be seen
that the soul i once held and carried
and will be mine in my arms again
Arriving
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The previous owners lost a child. The woman who lived here is a social worker and specializes in infant and child loss, which we only found out after we signed the sale contract and googled her name. I wonder if they lost a child, my husband and I said to each other then, and our suspicions were confirmed by the handyman who stopped by to remove a memorial stone from the back meadow. Eerie, that connection. The space readied for our exact sorrow.
Read MoreEverything and nothing
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I drive my husband to the train and wave at my neighbors as they deposit their kids on the bus. The neighbors smile and wave back, but their smiles are tinged with sadness. Instead of thinking, What a sweet young couple!, I’m sure they’re thinking, That poor, poor sweet young couple.
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The unthinkable
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Sixteen years have passed since I lost a baby. I’m now solidly in middle age, and I no longer keep an ‘unthinkable’ file. Humans suffer all kinds of pains and traumas, and somehow we endure. I’ve come to accept that life is many things—mysterious, unpredictable, painful, and beautiful—but fair, it is not. And that’s okay.
Read MoreOn writing
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It tapered off slowly, the writing. I’d find myself starting a new post with the bemused observation that it had been two months since I’d last written. Then it had been three months, then five, and now I might write twice a year. The last post was for her birthday. January. The only post this year. It’s been a crazy year, this one. But still, I wonder what happened to time when I passed it all writing. Where did I find it that time? What did I ignore or neglect or simply cease to notice while I was writing? How is grief so all-consuming and then one day… it’s not?
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