I listen.
Expecting it, waiting for it: bum-bum. bum-bum. bum-bum.
Giddy, remembering the first time I heard it from your brothers. It had blown me away. A moment sealed in my memory. Today I am more prepared. And I wait for it:
As the wait lengthens, I remember words quickly spoken, last night before going to sleep.
Said too lightly, never believed.
The silence continues.
I wait.
Finally the pain comes. I wish for more. Enough to fill the gaping wound. Enough to alert the world.
Silence remains.
They tell me I will see you some day.
I hear the cliche. Does it comfort or confuse?
I silence my questions.
Dear one, I'm sorry.
For my fear.
For my ambivalence.
For my silence:
Do not think it was shame.
Do not think I did not love you enough to say your name.
The sun rises.
Your brothers ask for their morning milk and snuggles.
And I will speak your name: Baby C
I cried when I read this.
ReplyDeleteI am still crying.
Baby C. I love you, too, Baby C.
So beautiful, dear sister.
Remind me to tell you about what we did last weekend. I promise it relates, but I want to tell you in person or at least in private e-mail.
Thank you. Thank you for sharing our grief in this, even while celebrating so much joy in the past year!
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