A Different Sea-When the World Has Moved On – A Poem by Melissa Murphy

Grief softens

it shifts

it changes

it erupts

it cripples, it heals but is never healed.

It is a constant companion in all the shapes and forms and intensities it takes.

The loss takes everything

…all at once.

And anything you have left is taken up simply by continuing to breathe.

Continue to breathe.

A single breath followed by another single breath.

And continue from your side of this life, in the silence of your own breath, to embrace the one you love who died.

Continue to include that love in all that you do and you’ll begin to hear their whispers in the wind, you’ll feel their presence brush your cheek, they’ll paint magnificent gifts in the clouds just for you and for all the world to see.

For those who notice.

Many won’t.

Not until they do.

Not until their own hearts are ripped by loss, when the grief introduces them to gravity.

It will happen.  It does happen.  To everyone.

It’s just your turn to walk before them.

They haven’t abandoned you.  They haven’t turned their backs.  They have continued living their own lives as they did before yours crumbled around you and pulled them in for a time.

We don’t come together for life.

We come together and drift apart so there are spaces for new connection.

Healing begins to happen in those spaces.

The tide comes in and leaves some things struggling in the sand

What’s left when the tide returns is rejoined with the sea but it’s a new sea, not the sea that left you struggling in the sand.

—written by Melissa Murphy

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Birthday Buttons – The rest of the story

There is more to the story of Dannica’s Birthday Buttons.  I wanted to include everything in my previous post but I felt strongly about sharing what I could on her special day and  wanted to wait for the appropriate permissions to come before sharing the full story… the miracles involved.

Since my baby passed, miracles have become commonplace in my life.  I will never take them for granted, they will always take my breath away and bring my hands to my heart and my soul to its knees and I will forever bask in their warmth, their coolness, their peace; postcards from home while I’m here on Earth, at “Summer Camp.”

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I saw a photo, similar to the one above, on a home page; something anyone would see when logging on to Etsy Thursday morning.  Generally, I move quickly past this page because I’m there to sell, not to buy and I usually click through to my own stats’n’stuff, only taking time to browse other shops after that.

I really could not take my eyes away from that beautiful tin and those beautiful buttons and they took me back to Dannica’s childhood button adventures instantly and fondly.  I felt her with me, beside me, in my left ear, up the left side of my face and into the crown of my head… tingling sensations of her presence, and her happiness, excitement, and her love.  Priceless!

Dannica’s Birthday, June 16, the details of this transaction between myself and Chickie became beautifully and brilliantly clear.  I had been tag-teamed by Angels.  This spontaneous purchase of antique buttons was a quantum setup between myself, my Dannica and Chickie, a lovely woman who’s also passed away and who’s Dear Ones have continued to honor her life through their own Etsy shop.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/ChickieVintageLove

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This is a photo of a beautiful young Chickie ❤

I sent a note to the shop owners to thank them and to let them know what a special gift this was and how pleased I am with it.  As I continued to look at the buttons and the little card that had been included; the birthday cupcake Thank You note from heaven.  I could almost hear the two of them giggling about it.  In the conversation that followed my purchase, I learned that Chickie’s birthday was June 13, three days before Dannica’s.

Love, Love, LOVE! to the Angelic Gemini twins.  How exciting and comforting it is to know that Dannica is continuing to enjoy the things she loved on earth from the other side.  She’s making good friends.  She’s happy.

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Birthday Buttons

 

Today, our Dannica turns 21 years old.  I remember the day she was born so clearly… the sweet smell of her little head, that first fragile cry echoes in my mind so clearly.  I’m not sure why some of those first memories are more vivid than some of the last memories.

I think of Danni every day, nearly constantly, but this week I found myself wanting to take her shopping, wanting to get her a birthday surprise and make a special treat for her special day.  The energy around me has felt spontaneous for days; like Dannica.  She was so quick witted, so creative, so curious… so FUN!

She was also very tactile and as a small child had dexterous little fingers that enjoyed disassembling anything that was held together by nuts and bolts.  These things were usually left for me to find as surprises such as the handle falling off the wood rack followed by the fireplace screen separating into three separate panels followed by the handles to the fireplace tools going missing.  The most memorable to me was one of the legs to the kitchen table just falling over onto the floor leaving a three legged table balancing over her and the little pile of green nuts and bolts.  She looked so proud!

One day while I was folding laundry, I noticed her in the closet admiring the shiny buttons on the sleeve of a coat.  She traced them and slid her little fingers over the raised patterns on them.  I’m pretty sure she was trying to figure out how to unscrew them, too.  She never lost that love of shiny buttons and even as a precocious 8, 9, 10 year old still spent time in the closet lost in fascinated examination.

I have spent the past ten months or so surrounded by my new hobby of jewelry making.  Each night, I sit on the living room floor and sort through beads, twist wire, experiment, create.  It relaxes me.  It keeps my hands busy and makes couch potato television watching (or floor potato as the case may be) feel like more of a productive activity.  It’s been positively therapeutic as well as introvert appropriate.

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This path led to Etsy.  Each day, I log into my shop to see what’s new and what others are doing.  This past Thursday when I entered the site, the first thing I saw was a photo of a beautiful vintage tin full of buttons!  I couldn’t take my eyes off it and my first thought was, “Danni would *love* that!”  I nearly clicked away from it but I just couldn’t so I bought it for her.  I could just imagine the excitement in her eyes when she opened the tin and I could see her sitting on her bed laying them out, touching them, finding her favorites and putting them all back again.  They would have become her friends, the way my beads are my friends; the way these buttons are becoming my friends, too.

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I can feel her joy as I slide my fingers into the box, buttons closing in to cover them completely…maybe if I reach in far enough, I’ll feel her hand doing the same from heaven.  Again, my child’s birthday brings me a priceless gift.  It even arrived with this little card containing the image of a birthday cupcake.

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Thank *YOU* Danni Jade ❤

To the Dear Ones Who Comment

Thank you.  I so appreciate your comments.  I know I’m terrible at responding but when I’m done writing I feel so drained I need to step away.  I log on and I read the comments and I cry and feel connection and love and support from a family I don’t want to be a member of.  Then I feel guilty for not at least acknowledging those who reach out to comfort me or to share their own pain and process and I feel so much for you all in return; so much love, and I feel your pain and just like everyone else, I have no words.

Many have nominated me for this or that blogger award and I want you to know I am flattered, honored.  I don’t have the energy to participate.  My ego doesn’t need the strokes.  I’m too tired to “pay it forward.”  I know that sounds terribly selfish, but I’m doing this for me, for my own process, my own healing, my own discovery.  The fact that it’s actually touching other human souls touches my own human soul *deeply* and in a way, keeps me going.  I’m learning I’m not alone.  I’m learning others feel exactly as I do.

Thank you.  I hope you’ll keep talking to me even when I’m “one poor correspondent, and too, too hard to find.  It doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mind.”

Autumn’s Fall

A year and four months following my daughter’s accident and passing, my mind is still easily consumed by the most traumatic memories of that evening.  The smells, physical sensations, the taste of my tears, even the sounds are all gone but for a few:  The sound of the EMT, “Get her out of here!”  The doctor’s voice, “There’s no easy way to say it she’s dead.”  My son’s cry, “No! No.. No…no…no.  Even when I try, I don’t get it all back.  But the images.  The images are bright and clear and vivid and silent across the dome of my mind.  I am standing right there under the dome.  I see everything over and over and over and over again bigger than anything I’ve ever seen but the night sky.  It is no wonder I am exhausted still.  The physical, conscious effort it takes to push my mind in any other direction seems to me a superhuman one.  It might be easier to bend steel or stop trains.  If only there really were a Superman to reverse the spin of the planet until my Dannica was alive again where I could hold her tight and, this time, keep her safe.

November 14th 2013, one year.  We lit candles.  Many, many candles.  I don’t seem to be able to recall more.  Remember, I’ve only just dragged my mind and spirit up from the sea floor.  It’s rusty now and full of silt and reluctant to try.  The part of me that once obsessed with documenting everything doesn’t care about that now.  So I’m losing details at four months out and I’m sorry about that.  Ask me anything you want about sixteen months ago, though, and I can give you everything.

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November 20th 2013, we had our dear German Shepherd, Teva, put down.  It was horrible.  It wasn’t a peaceful passing and it was devastating.  I could see it in her eyes as her sweet spirit left her body, “Why do you want me to go away?  I would NEVER leave you!” … she didn’t understand.  How could she?  The next day was my birthday.  The year before, that day was the day of Dannica’s memorial service and the day after that, Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving a year later I cooked.  I like to cook once in a while.  It was always Dannica’s gift to set the table.  She starched and artfully twisted cloth napkins into fans or candles or bishop’s hats and added flowers or glittering leaves and made the table so beautiful.  I tried.  My napkins wouldn’t cooperate.  This year they were frustrated rectangles.  I bought fresh flowers but couldn’t make myself glitter anything.  Dannica’s place was set with the flowers, candles, her photo…  it was okay until it was time to eat.  It was quiet.  I couldn’t talk.  I couldn’t eat.  I tried not to, really hard I tried not to but then just cried.  Of course, I’m so grateful for my husband and for my son.  Of course I am.

For a minute I wanted to do Christmas the way Dannica would have done Christmas.  I wanted to deck every hall and light up the place, every space.  For her.  But my heart and mind were giving each other the silent treatment and trying to get me to take sides.  My heart won… my heart wasn’t in it and we did the best we could to find a little joy and I think we did.  A little.  It will never be the same; any of it, ever.  How could it be?

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Happy New Year.  Yes, happy new year.  I was happy to see the last one go, anyway.

On Hollow

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When I created this blog, I didn’t have to think of a title, it was just there.  It was the first thing that came to my mind because it was exactly how I felt; completely hollowed out.  It didn’t take me long to realize that I wasn’t done being hollowed out.  I actually believed, in that moment, I couldn’t get any more empty and yet that is when the words began to flow, like my tears… or Doritos.  “…we’ll make more.”

Breathing out and out and out until I cannot breathe out any more.  My body starts to panic, my cells begin to starve, I could keep breathing out and out and out until my life passes from my body completely but then I gasp, against my will to continue breathing out until I am empty.  And then I give up and just keep breathing in… and in… and in.

In this moment, hollow brings to mind deep and mysterious forests, dark and quiet woods.  Dear but dirty little people wearing rustic, raggy clothing, cooking simple meals in kettles over fires.  I find the thoughts and images they create to be comforting.  As a child these ideas inspired endless hours of adventure.  The hollows were places I actually wanted to be.  The hollow of an old tree, the hollows inside bushes, the hollows between branches of the christmas tree, the tiny bathroom I would “sneak away” to write in my first 5-year diary complete with lock and key, pretending it was a hollow elsewhere, the hollow in the perfect limb of the apricot tree where I watched people walk by below never knowing I was there even when they were looking for me.  Later, the hollows were nooks.  A breakfast nook in my and my husband’s first house, a reading nook in the study downstairs.  The nook that is my bed, where I sit now, surrounded by pillows and a canopy.  These are the places I’ve always sought out, felt comfortable with, curled up in.  Never have I actually *been* one of these places until now.

I look around and it’s very dark.  It’s very quiet, but for this heart beating against my will, but for these sobs softened from screams of despair that echo from the walls at a distance I can’t quite fathom…returning and returning until they’re only whimpers and then I hear only the tears falling to the floor like a leaking pipe.  There is nothing soft here, nothing cozy, nothing comforting.  Not really.

Today is the 10th of March, 2014.  I sat to write, having forgotten I’d written the above on November 10th, 2013.  I had intended to post this on the one year anniversary of Dannica’s passing four months ago on November 14th.  But I didn’t.  Instead, I tied a heavy stone around my mind and my spirit and I tossed it into the sea and watched it sink until the bubbles no longer surfaced and then I walked away.