One of my favorite websites recently featured a poem called The End by Rabindranath Tagore. The poem is written in the voice of a baby who has died, and he comforts his mother that he is not truly gone. He says, “I shall become a delicate draught of air and caress you; and I shall be the ripples in the water when you bathe, and kiss you and kiss you again.”
I really liked this poem because it wasn’t of the horrid “angel in heaven” variety that I’ve most often run across. But I had a really hard time relating to the poem because, in truth, I don’t feel that Julian is near me. For me, Julian is a heavy, heavy absence in the world. He is the black hole at the center of my heart. He is just gone, and pretty thoughts about moonbeams and ripple kisses won’t ever make that better.
But the poem ends with the query, “Where is our baby?...He is in the pupils of my eyes, he is in my body and in my soul.”
Perhaps I can live with that. Julian’s birthday is fast approaching and I’ve been remembering the last days of my pregnancy and the terrible, dark time I spent in the hospital. I am definitely not the same person I was last year. I am older, sadder, damaged. Maybe a little wiser. My body bears the marks of childbirth, and my heart carries the scars of grief.
So yes, Julian is in my body and in my soul. Or more specifically, he can be found in that space of difference between who I was and who I have become.
"A Series Of Unfortunate Events" (and one good one)
"My Freakin' Soapbox"
McDonalds Gourmet
Our Friends and Family
Julian Evan Simon
5 comments:
I love that you have put pictures of Julian on your blog. My heart still aches for him. If there is anything you need, or anything that I can do, please let me know.
I love you both.
Jason
"The death of a baby is like a stone cast into the stillness of a quiet pool; the concentric ripples of despair sweep out in all directions,affecting many, many people."
--De Frain, 1991
My heart hurts for you and Scott, especially as Julian's birthday approaches. You are both constantly in my thoughts and I'm always sending love your way. I wish so much I could have known my little nephew.
Ah, Heather. That is the saddest thing I have ever read. My heart just breaks for you.
I sit here with tears streaming down my face. I am so very sorry. I can't even begin to know how you must feel. I want you to know that the three of you are in our hearts, especially during this hard month. I love you, and am so, so sorry.
Everytime I read this blog, and even the comments I just cry. I can't think of one thing to make it seem alright. But this is what I believe: Someday we will understand. Someday it will make sense to us. That is what I know about my baby. And that is what I know about yours. He's real, and he's alive.
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