Gabe and Jason

Dear Gabe and Jason,
I love you both. I believe that Katie is a part of us now and that she'll always be with us. We've had a long, hard, five years together, and now it's time to dance and love and celebrate and be happy.
Love,
Mom

remembering Katie on Table Mountain

We spread a blanket in the shade of a huge oak and ate our sandwiches and oranges, then laid back and gazed up at the sky through its beautiful branches, enjoying the play of light upon the leaves. We became aware of birds flitting from branch to branch that had bright yellow bellies, goldfinches again! They were feeding on swarms of insects that seemed to follow the sunlight shifting along the upper branches. It was the perfect place, shady and cool, with a beautiful view and goldfinch entertainment. It was a restful place to come and remember Katie.

Later on we walked along a spring fed brook, admiring all the gorgeous wildflowers along the way. We found at a nice spot to write messages on the balloons and release them. Other people hiking nearby stopped and watched, as if gazing at balloons floating up in the sky was a special experience. I couldn't really feel anything but the beauty of Table Mountain surrounding me, and that was ok. As we were leaving the sun set and we saw two deer in a field nearby. In all that beauty, Nola and Mark and I remembered her.

balloons for Katie from Table Mountain

"What moves through us is a silence, a quiet sadness, a longing for one more day, one more word, one more touch. We may not understand why you left this earth so soon, or why you left before we were ready to say good-bye, but little by little, we will begin to remember not just that you died, but that you lived. And that your life gave us memories too great to forget."

meditations

From a book of Irish poems/meditations:
To Bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue

For Grief

When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you gets fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence.

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.

Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until the coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From the gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.

For the Parent on the Death of a Child

No one knows the wonder
Your child awoke in you,
Your heart a perfect cradle
To hold its presence.
Inside and outside became one
As new waves of love
Kept surprising your soul.

Now you sit bereft
Inside a nightmare,
Your eyes numbed
By the sight of a grave
No parent should ever see.

You will wear this absence
Like a secret locket,
Always wondering why
Such a new soul
Was taken home so soon.

Let the silent tears flow
And when your eyes clear
Perhaps you will glimpse
How your eternal child
Has become the unseen angel
Who parents your heart
And persuades the moon
To send new gifts ashore.

sunset after five years

So when I walked out the front door on Tuesday evening, April 21, 2009, I was awed by the pink clouds in the east against the brilliant blue sky. I still remember the first time I saw Maxfield Parish's work, I thought he'd added some imaginary color to his skies. But over the years I've been treated to skies that amaze me with more vivid colors than any I grew up with in the Bay Area. Now when I see such beautiful things, I often think of Katie and feel that she is experiencing them with me. She is a constant presence in our family now, able to be both in Chico and Chicago in our hearts and minds.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004, sometime after 7 pm. I had taught all day then commuted back home and fell onto the bed to relax, when I heard the phone ring in the kitchen. Mark answered it, and came into the bedroom and handed it too me, saying "It's Wellesley and they want to know where Katie is." In that moment, the resposibility for finding my daughter and taking care of her became mine. We drove to the San Francisco airport, and I ran through the terminal to board the plane, flying all night to Boston. A couple on the plane gave me a ride to Wellesley, but within minutes of my arrival, her body was found.

I would never be able to help her or take care of her... or when she got well give her back the responsibility for her own life. So now, five years later, I still hold the burden of that responsibility, and I'm trying to figure out how to put it down. I don't have the answers, I just know I'm weary. And I'm searching for a way to free myself from responsibilities that no longer have any meaning beyond guilt. I can't help her, I can't save her, her life is over, so why am I still carrying this around?

my brown eyed girl

Dear Katie,
It's been five long years since I held you in my arms, but I'm holding you in my heart forever.
Love Always,
Mom

Katie's swan

Five years ago today, my daughter sent me these pictures. We had a joyful, happy conversation. Five days later, she would die. The dissonance is unbearable.

Katie called me on a Wednesday afternoon and said "Mom, there's this big white bird and I don't know what it is! I ran back to my dorm and got my camera and found some batteries for it, and when I got back, it was still there! What is it?"

I laughed and told her I'd have to get off the phone to look at the pictures, as we had a dial up connection. Her email was labeled: big white bird! And the three pictures above were labeled: big bird, duck thing, and goose or swan or something. I called her back and told her it was a swan.

She said "Oh wow, I've never seen a swan before!" I said yes you have, don't you remember the swans in the pond in front of the castle at Disneyland? And she said, "Oh mom, that place is so surreal, I would have never thought those were real birds!"

The email was dated Wednesday, April 14, 2004 at 2:31.

the Y stick at the top of Phantom Falls

The Y stick actually has a happy origin. My niece Carrie picked it up on our hike to Bald Rock and took a picture of it. She said she teased a friend at the beach with a Y shaped stick, following her around and asking "Why? Why?" to everything she said:)

I thought it was a funny story, and suggested that we put the stick in the backpack and snap it's picture at various spots that we hike to. Just like the little gnome that Amelie had her friend travel with and photograph in the movie. I had no plans to send it to anyone, just thought it would be a fun private joke to share, something silly to laugh about. And it will be. But just now I'm pausing for the sorrowful whys, the ones that tear your heart out and shred it.

Why did these baby birds have to die? The ones I had foolishly set my heart on. Not every egg hatches, but these ones did. Why did the wind have to blow so hard so soon after they hatched, making it difficult for the parents to simultaneously feed them and keep them warm? Why couldn't I intervene in just the right way to save them?

Why did my daughter die? Why didn't I know something was wrong with my child? Why didn't God let me know that something was wrong so I could try to help her? Why does anyone's child have to die? Why? Why?

loss touches loss

Today I took my camera to school to watch the birds even though it's Spring Break. I went and looked out the window, and no mama bird on the nest. I waited, and could see the tiny forms of the baby birds, but no movement. After sitting quietly awhile I walked outside and unlocked the gate and went to look closely at the nest. They were cuddled up next to each other and still. I'm so tired of the universe right now.

3 eggs hatched!!!

the first egg hatched!!!!

mama goldfinch shows off her eggs

Waiting and watching, as today is the twelfth day since the clutch of eggs was complete...any moment now, we should have hatchlings! We wrote haiku about our lesser goldfinch experience, and the kids dubbed them 'birdku' in honor of the book Dogku by Andrew Clements. Such fun!

One of the things I forgot to write about last week was how several of the students talked about the 'bird viewing platform' in our classroom being like going to the zoo or the aquarium (after all, the window is glass!). I pointed out to them that the difference was that we were the ones in the cage, not the birds, and they thought that was funny! I suppose it's like having our own magic school bus trip right in our portable...we could be the magic school portable!

I did find out through a little internet research that the reason these birds are called Lesser Goldfinches is that they are the smallest finches, not because they are less beautiful than any other birds!