February and March have been okay months.....two big shows, a breakdown in Georgia, that totally sucked me dry financially. More tests it seems. But Sky and I had a wonderful time at Universal Studios, I just wish that I had a camera to record my pale window, my boy on our adventures.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Reflections on a new year
It's hard starting out a new year with (what one hopes) is the saddest day you'll ever have. But there it is. I've had a few sad days.
My daughter's stillborn day.
The day I had to tell Sky about his father's death.
My own father's death.
But I have to interject something here, maybe off the point, because my mind is just rambling now. I remember a few years, this same daughter called, on her way to the Emergency Room, could I meet her there? I don't remember what was wrong, a miscarriage, I think, but it could have been something else. I don't think I want to remember. But I was also in a black-out drunk. Because that was what I did in those days. I don't remember much, but I know I made a drunken scene in the ER, I do know I was of no help whatsoever to Kathy.
So, I should be grateful (small mercies) that I could be there for her this time. Hold her hand through the whole birth, knowing what was coming, but not knowing yet the look of anguish only a mother can have for her lost child.
I hope I never know that. It's been my biggest worry with this child for the past 10 (12?) years.
I could write a whole lot more about anguish, because of Bill, of course. But that rests for another day.
My daughter's stillborn day.
The day I had to tell Sky about his father's death.
My own father's death.
But I have to interject something here, maybe off the point, because my mind is just rambling now. I remember a few years, this same daughter called, on her way to the Emergency Room, could I meet her there? I don't remember what was wrong, a miscarriage, I think, but it could have been something else. I don't think I want to remember. But I was also in a black-out drunk. Because that was what I did in those days. I don't remember much, but I know I made a drunken scene in the ER, I do know I was of no help whatsoever to Kathy.
So, I should be grateful (small mercies) that I could be there for her this time. Hold her hand through the whole birth, knowing what was coming, but not knowing yet the look of anguish only a mother can have for her lost child.
I hope I never know that. It's been my biggest worry with this child for the past 10 (12?) years.
I could write a whole lot more about anguish, because of Bill, of course. But that rests for another day.
Memento Moris Redux - Born Still
My last posting seems so oddly prophetic now. My darling daughter's baby died, just a few days ago. We still don't know why she died. There is a photograph, now, of my own daughter, looking very much like the young woman in the previous photo, holding her baby, with that same struck look on her face......
I never hope to see that look again.
Her perfect little girl, perfect except for her very stillness, who had moved inside her just two days before. Before she became, became still.
I never hope to see that look again.
Her perfect little girl, perfect except for her very stillness, who had moved inside her just two days before. Before she became, became still.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Meanderings
I fell into a trance the other day, driving, and imagined my other (real?) (true?) life. I was living in a dry, hot place, with swept pine floors, the color of dark amber. On the mantel were shards - of glass, of clay; the shards of glass reflecting colors to the ceiling. The walls were hung with memento mori......of whom I don't know, children and old ladies. The curtains were woven of cobwebs and black bombazine. I wore my long hair up in a pile held together with barkless twigs. Outside the dusty windows was my garden. I grew only tumbleweeds.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
The Footsteps of Spring
I remember....
I remember that Spring long ago, holding hands with Sue, under bright dogwoods, breathing her last breaths,
and happy
we lay down in the footsteps of Spring.
I remember that Spring long ago, holding hands with Sue, under bright dogwoods, breathing her last breaths,
and happy
we lay down in the footsteps of Spring.
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