September Hush
I thought of the momentum of this date as it originally unfolded in 2001. I had started a new manuscript and had been asked to submit some of my poetry for publication in several anthologies. The dichotomy of the situation was strange. I was enduring a marital separation and while my two older children had chosen to live with me, the courts had decided that my youngest would spend every other week with her father. It was during this chaotic time that she was out of my care.
It is a blessing and a curse to be inspired by tragedy as I've written some of my best work during these times. My motto was, 'adversity is the soil in which I grow'. Thinking back over the 15 years that have passed, I think of my own tragedy. Five years ago next month my youngest took her life. It has been a struggle to deal with her loss and loss of most of my identity. Being the primary parent of three children was how I identified myself. Having a teenager in the house kept me moving and motivated. Her loss absolutely gutted me and it's hard to describe my grief but I'm going to try.
Imagine waking up one morning to discover that you've lost all of your limbs as a result of an accident. You can still feel the phantom pain of those limbs but now it's entwined with fear thudding between beats of horrendous pain that blots out everything including thought. That pulse is the only thing that you can focus on. You wait impatiently for someone to tell you it's just a dream. You wait expectantly for answers to why you must endure this horror. There is a lot of time in that bubble of not knowing. And because you are a control freak, you finally manage to lengthen the focused pulse so that you can add thought to the endless waves of pain and fear. Settling through the 'what ifs' and the 'if onlys' that shoot up like geysers of steam through your hard-won pool of controlled tranquility make you realize the danger of your current situation. If you don't keep the breath in your lungs just right you will not float. You have no limbs but if you don't relax then you will drown. Looking at the horizon in the distance there is acceptance. Now you must learn to live the rest of your life in this state; you cannot take a deeper breath nor can you exhale; you certainly cannot 'rock the boat' by letting emotions get the better of you.
Being mindful that I have other children who are trying to deal with their own grief made me exist on another plane, a plane of numbness. Next month marks the 5th year of those 15 that I've been out at sea. And while I have had to accept the fact that my daughter is gone and that I will never see her again, the larger picture of those others that lost loved ones in the destruction of the World Trade Center's twin towers weigh heavily on me. How have these others survived the past 15 years? While my years before the mast have been harsh, they have also been tempered with joy as well. I became a grandmother in 2013 and twin grandchildren are expected in the New Year. I will also be celebrating my 11th wedding anniversary next month. I still have a child at home, and she fills my life with joy intermingled with waves of discovery, albeit with frequent bouts of consternation thrown in for good measure. She inspires me to get up every morning, grab my camera and bear witness to the life around me.
