Saturday, October 24, 2015

Not that beautiful face

We moved Isla.  The realtor suggested that we take some of our more personal items out of the home to make it more inviting to potential buyers.  I removed your photos from the wall.  Now, as we begin to settle into home number two I ache ache ache to have to pull your pictures out and see that smiling happy beautiful face.  I miss you.
When I remember, it hurts so bad I can't even be of this world.  I feel floating above it really.  Like half ready to leave at anytime and half trying to stay here for the other parts of my life.  Sometimes it doesn't feel like there are other parts of my life.  Sometimes there is just you.
You will never not be the being that made me a mom.  Your birth alone changed me, but you didn't stop teaching us Isla.  You showed me how much my anxiety impacted the house.  When I would take a five minute break because I would be overwhelmed with the ins and outs of parenthood... you would knock on the door and ask if I was all done being mad yet.  You were sensitive too and it bothered you when anyone else was feeling anything less than perfect.  You snuggled in our bed until we were all ready as a family to go downstairs.  You were warm, sweet, and soft.  How I miss holding you.
Why do I have to stay here while you move on?  Why?!?!?  I don't understand why you got sick and I don't understand why you aren't here anymore.  I don't understand why I don't get to be the mom of a five year old daughter, planning her sixth birthday.  I loved being a young mother so much.  It felt like you and I were teaching each other so much.
You showed me that I didn't have control.  You showed me that I can stay in a home for weeks without leaving and that even pregnant and nauseous, I could carry 70 lbs up steep stairs and empty buckets of urine and feces without throwing up.  You showed me that everything is temporary.  Your life here, your happiness here, your suffering here.  I asked for help too Isla.  I really wanted things to be perfect for you, but they couldn't be.
I have this added compassion and empathy now for those that are sick and needy.  You taught me that.  But in the same floaty way of being half here and half with you, so many people's concerns seem so insignificant now.  If I know it is hard for them, but that they will come out okay on the other side, I can't be bothered.  So much of our life here is just not a big deal.
You are a beautiful soul Isla.  I don't know what else to say.  I miss you is all.  I am going to keep trying to be a good person and helping those around me until I have the opportunity to be with you again.  And if that time is a long long time from now, please let me find some meaning and value in the day to day.  Let there be some good moments.
And on a selfish note, I look like I have aged 30 years since you have gone.  Is that gonna reverse?  So much love to you my precious Isla bones.  You made life so good.  Thinking of you today and always.  Holding you heavily in my heart.  I love you love you love you.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I don't know if any event in your life can happen and not carry with it the weight of being unable to answer if this "Is this okay with Isla?", or "Will she understand why we are doing this?"

The hollowness, the emptiness, the absence - that isn't our answer but comes as a result of our asking. God was she a beautiful soul and a brilliant life! I won't say I want to die so I can see her, but sometimes I think it isn't such an awful thing. I find comfort hoping that she is with Ann. Ann was never a mother and I think could have been wonderful at it. She passed when Troy was six and Tina was a baby. She was so sick then and I don't remember how she handled their youth or their innocence or their vitality. I was 16 then and simply didn't pay attention to those things. When Isla died, I was 54 and knew exactly what we lost.

I wanted to talk with someone about our lost girls so I came out here tonight. Bless you.

Gloria said...

Love to you too. I can't imagine the loss of a sister. That would be so heart breaking. Thanks for your comments.