This post will probably only be up for a day as I'm not really sure I'm ready to share this, but I think I'll feel better when I do.
The day before yesterday was the 65th anniversary of Pearl Harbor. It was a Sunday, and though I am way too young to have remembered it, it resonates in me because I have listened to Moira Kelly describe that day through the eyes of Sara Louise Bradshaw (yes, my namesake) in Jacob Have I Loved, the audio version.
Yesterday, December 8, 2006, was my sister Joy's 31st birthday. Joy Cherene lived about 20 days, because thirty one years ago premies didn't live. Cherene is probably spelled wrong, but it's the word in Farsi (the language of the Persion people) for sweetness. My mom lived in Iran for three years before my folks got married. If you haven't heard that story, well, it's a good one. I'll save it for Valentine's Day, though.
When I was in ninth grade and all depressed (ninth grade sucks for everyone!) I went to a therapist, and all she wanted to talk about was Joy and Peter. Which at the time I figured wasn't that important. And at the time, it wasn't.
But last year, as my new therapist was trying to piece together my history, all of a sudden I needed to know. So one time when my dad was visiting, we sat in the café at Fox Books and I got all the dates from him. Joy was born in December. I think (I don't have that paper in a place readily available--euphemism for it's lost) that Peter was born in April. He died about 20 days later too. I was six or seven.
So yesterday, driving to Oakland, I thought, today is something, I have to know. So first I called my house and then my dad's cell phone. Later in the day he called me, to ask me about something but also to tell me that yes, it was Joy's birthday, and that he'd be arranging for flowers on her grave.
Her grave is in Poplar Lakes, NJ, where my mom grew up. It's the family grave site. My grandparents are there, my Aunt Margaret, my Uncle Klaus, and Joy and Peter. I guess depending on who I marry I'll be buried there too.
I talked to my mom briefly last night and she said, "Honey, I talked to Daddy about it and I think at this point it's more important to you than it is to us." She wasn't being cold, but it's true. My mom has gotten past the pain (I almost typed pasta--which makes me giggle in this very somber post.) The last time she and I talked about Joy and Peter, she said, yes, Joy died, but we had you. You were our joy. Yes, Peter died, but we had you. It is wonderful for me that my mother is past the pain, because for years she couldn't forgive God. But apparently the pain has been passed on to me. All of yesterday, I brought out my grief, as if it was something to hold in my hands, and examined it. Is it okay for me to grieve a sister I never knew? I have the bestest sister anyone could ask for. But Joy was a person, and one I never met, because thirty one years ago a four year old would not be allowed into the NicU.
Good grief, now I have to get ready for work. Here's a tidbit of a conversation with my chiropractor (yes, I'm now seeing the chiropractor three times a week, for the next six weeks.)
Dr. P: So how big is your staff?
Me: About 100 or so.
Dr. P: Wow, and you're in charge of all of them?
Me: (thinking, where did he get THAT idea) um, no.
I don't have a staff, I am the staff. Talking to your chiropractor whilst he is adjusting your back is a little better than talking to your dentist. At least you can answer intelligently because your mouth isn't full.
2 years ago
8 comments:
I would grieve too. There are many moments you could have had with her, many memories you could have built, had she lived.
SL, yes it is right to grieve. You can't get from here to there if you don't.
The small child you were wouldn't know how but the woman you are now does. Feel your grief and go on with life. That is the way it has always been.
Thank you.
It's hard to think about, as I think that our life would have been so different...
and I like our life. But I still grieve what could have been...
It started a conversation at work about the miracle of my co-worker's second boy who was a premie. We women need to share our stories...
Aw, SL. I am crying here, along with you. We lost a niece to SIDS, and her then 5 yo sister (now 27) is still haunted by it. Death of a sibling has rocketing repurcussions for years.
Yes, your lives would have been so different had 2 babies lived. And you would not have the siblings you now have, more than likely.
Grief is a process. Can't be back burnered or it grows more awful in the ignoring of it.
Sometimes I feel the niece I grieve for now (the 19 yo one born soon after the sister who died) is tied in with the death of her sibling. We would not have the 19 yo had her sister lived. And I wonder if 'the one who got away' would have been a less troubled child. *sigh*
I had a twin that didn't develop and was miscarried. I sometimes wonder if the child would have been a brother or sister. Not at all the same as what you are experiencing, but I think families are tied together in strange ways sometimes.
And it's good to hear your mother and father made it. Some families don't stick together after a child, let alone two, have such short lives.
Sorry for your grief. I hope you find peace and hope.
My mother miscarried two babies, one older than me, and one younger than me. I too, often think about the younger one, who was apparently a late loss. What would he have been like? I would have been a middle child. What would that have been like? Would I have been more patient less self-centred that I am today?
I even knew his name - Dimitri, which is the Greek version of James. The feeling of loss isn't always with me, just occasionally when I wonder about my life.
My family, by the way, never discusses this. My older brother actually never knew until I told him some time ago. Families are what they are. We can only do what we can do.
My best wishes to you. PS. I came to you from MsCellania.
I may do a post on Patty MacLachlan's book Baby, as the melancholy is still with me but I feel a need to move on to a new post...
Thank you all for your kind words. I feel in some ways that instead of getting older, I'm getting younger, as I take off the pieces of grief from my childhood.
Praying...
Post a Comment