An Unexpected Journey

A poem that my brother, a pilot, wrote last fall about Makiah.  He just shared it with me.  Such beautiful grief... another oxymoron. Thank you to all those who have shared their memories of her and held our hands in this walk of weeping. Fingers and Flesh Little girl why are your fingers so cold?   Arise sweet child! Arise! With these fingers you held my hands while we played in the park.   With these fingers you held my neck when you leapt from the ground to draw me close. With these fingers you touched my heart, straight through the flesh touched my beating soul. With your little eyes you held my gaze, hours gone by, through the camera your captive. With these fingers you touched my picture, each morning and night asked my blessing. With these fingers you touched the wife that I have yet to know. With these fingers you pointed to my plane, reminding mommy you know where I roam. With these fingers you blessed the twins whose flesh you will never hold.   ...

There is irony in Death. In the death of a loved one- the snatching of a child from your arms. You become suddenly, painfully aware that time here does not last forever. That life has limits. That every minute is intrinsically valuable. That tomorrow is truly not promised... to any of us. And yet, at the very moment your eyes are stripped of their blinders and you perceive the preciousness of the inhaling and exhaling, that every breath is on loan, you seem to lose the ability to really live. Now you want to carpe diem , but there is a gaping hole that seems to drain away attempts at happiness. How do you enjoy when the joy is leaked away? Now you know, but with the deep inner knowing comes the deeper pain of loss. They hold hands in a cruel pact of friendship- the loss and the eyes-wide-open living. Losing a loved one is like losing a limb.  If your right arm were gone, you could still live your life.  Just differently.  You would have to brush your teeth ...

We have waited 9 months for this very first hearing, and we got a call that it was postponed... with no new date scheduled.  And so a new roller coaster begins.   I am sick today (literally) so I will borrow a line from Forrest Gump- that's all I'm gonna say about that. :)

I could hardly sleep last night.  I lay in the darkness feeling the cool air billow across white sheets and listening to the hum of the fan.  I want to immerse myself in memories.  I want to be there in them.  I hear her little footsteps as she runs to our room in the night.  She stands by my bed and her arms are full of fuzzy friends and her silky pink pillow.  "Mommy I dropped the bunny!" she cries.  I pull her across me and make room for her little pillow and stuffed animals.  "Mommy will get him, baby."  With a little irritation at the number of animals that must make the midnight trek to our bed, I retrieve the pink softness.  She sighs and snuggles into the warmth between mommy and daddy.   I kiss her soft cheeks and pull my fingers through gentle, blond curls.  And the world feels right.  I think of the morning.  Light creeps through the blinds and she exclaims exuberantly, "Time to get up!  The sun i...

"Look Out Kindergarten, Here I Come" by Nancy Carlson. The book arrives in the mail today. I thought that these free books we get were supposed to stop on Makiah's 5th birthday. Apparently not. I feel an invisible punch in the gut as my eyes trace over the title. One more reminder that she is not with us. That we had to return the clothes I bought during the end of season sales last summer for her to wear to kindergarten. That her friends can write their last names now, but she never got to learn. I wipe down her baby toys. Her little sisters are grabbing things now. Time to pass on big sissy's things. She wanted them to play with them. No, she wanted to teach them to play with them. I sit in her room with the babies laying in front of me on the crisp white bedspread . I read her books to them and big, blue eyes like saucers bounce to the rhythm of the words. I sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," and two pair of lips curl into grins at the hand mo...

Daddy's arms.  There's nothing like them.  Cutting her cord his face is alive with joy.  Holding her in his strong hands tears trickle down.  One hundred thousand  kisses from soft lips couched in a scratchy goatee.  He always keeps her on his day off while mommy works because he wants to.  Diaper changes and spit up never sway him.  Daddy daughter dates for crunchy fried chicken legs are what memories are made of.   Splashing in muddy puddles together.  Sharing breath and sweaty sleeping close.  Eskimo kisses and Valentine's dances.  She throws herself across his lap and exclaims " Don't tickle me, Daddy!"  Sweetest laughter follows.  Eating first food...catching first fish.  Daddy gently teaches.   "Daddy, please swing with me... play barbies with me... pretend mermaids with me..."  she asks.  His answer is always yes.  Bedtime routines that last an hour.  Stories and rocking...