If you are receiving this email, you are one of those who wished, at some point along the way, to be kept informed of the progress of our family through the journey of our daughter and sister Nora Lynne’s new life and illness (or you were on our annual letter list or are close family or friends and we didn't give you a choice!). Throughout that seven month period and especially around the time of her death, we were sustained in part by the meaningful expressions of support that many of you offered. It became clear that Nora’s life and spirit affected many who came to know her either in person or through our communications, the knowledge of which has been, in and of itself, one of our greatest comforts. Though we have not consistently remained in touch with all members of this electronically organized community, we suppose that that makes sense and is understandable from both sides of that communication equation.
June 4th marks exactly one year since Nora had to leave us. We are acknowledging this anniversary with various acts of remembrance, some personal and some rather more public: For those who wish to and are able, you are invited to our place in Keezletown on June 5th to gather with ourselves and others for a time of remembering Nora and our moments with her, and perhaps to reiterate some of what she and those moments have meant for us.
We realize that some of you receiving this email find yourselves on the other side of the globe! Please know that we send this mostly wishing to be in touch once more with the net of support that helped sustain us during Nora’s life and in her dying. We don’t expect persons to travel great distances to be with us physically but wished for you to know of this gathering and to know that you can join us in spirit in your own way even at a distance.
Below is a poem that I, Jason, have been developing over the past few days as I have been preparing the ground for planting in the memorial garden we’ve established for Nora.
Reiterations
A father’s love ignores the border
death presents. I worked for you in every way I knew, now
what to do with this: my aimless drive to help, my hoeing the abyss?
There’s nothing you could need from me; I’ll turn my hoe toward earth
and let the rocks and soil absorb my effort, and I'll wait for birth among the
blooming celebrations. I can work on these reiterations.
And so we put together what we can: we scrape
the weeds aside and mark a place where, when it needs to huddle
with the memories, a heart may hide. We’ve caught a hold on changes
in the calendar and seasons, have made spaces full of time: ad hoc
creations. We’ve established these reiterations.
I think it helps a little. Do I need to see reflections of my baby
girl out there exposed to wild, swirling air to keep me from forgetting? Maybe not, but
there is satisfaction in the knowledge that in moments when I need to whittle down
into the quick of loss, or glory in parental, proud elation, I can turn to these reiterations.
Thank you, child! You never read the clock to know the shame
of dallying too long. Your fingers never curled around a cent. When it was time
for you to go, you didn’t worry, you just went. Your heart and mind and palms were full
of room; your presence was a balm for wounds we couldn’t feel. How many repetitions
of your memory will be required for me to heal? What is my hurry? If I sit awhile in a
place, perhaps an insect sipping from a bloom will show the way to freedom from the
hectic expectations. I’ll depend on these reiterations.
I didn’t know I feared a fading of your presence, but I found that when I cleared
the soil space I knew relief, anticipating sprouting seeds. Your memory’s alive, and here
is how I know: I’ve seen it grow! How can this be: while thinking of the years ahead, a
smile? I’m eager to be watching all you were to us becoming what it is, what it will be,
and relishing your place within our family. Our love is strong, so time will find us
living out a leafy incarnation, still repeating these reiterations.
Jason Myers-Benner
May 24, 2009
Don’t let such lofty words mislead you…the Memorial Garden is far from a finished state. It still exists partly in the mind. However, by June 5 we will be ready for and do welcome any perennial divisions from your yard. For those who feel an urge to contribute to the endeavor but for whom distance or other factors preclude your making a gift of a perennial division, you are free to follow your own creative inclination (communication is always a welcome contribution) and there is also a monetary option: we are planning to place a stone bench and solar-powered fountain in her garden, and welcome contributions towards those purchases. We mention this possibility only for those who genuinely feel they wish to participate in this way. The placement of the bench and fountain do not depend on your financial participation.
Thank you all for your support all along this way!
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