Friday, June 26, 2009

Final posting!

While our journey with Nora's presence in our lives is by no means complete, we are closing this blog to any future postings. We want this space to be maintained as a place that has focused primarily on our journey with Nora in life and death and in the year following her death. Future reflections can be found on our new blog "Encounters with Sustenance" at www.myers-benner.blogspot.com There is no doubt that our memories of Nora and the impact her life had on ours will also be woven into those pages.

Both Jason and I have been experiencing some variation of "post anniversary blues" or as Jason better articulated, the process of allowing Nora's death to sink in for the long term. I think all three of us felt a certain build up to the first anniversary. Once the activities surrounding June 4 came and went I found myself wondering "what's next?"

Last night the tears, which had been strangely absent the last number of weeks, finally relieved some of the built-up feelings inside. And I realized how scared I felt all over again about losing her - losing the memories, losing the lessons, losing the feeling of being her mommy, losing the sensations of holding her and the sounds she uttered. I no longer find myself feeling upset when people don't mention her. It's more that I want so badly for help in keeping her alive in my mind, heart, body and soul. But I imagine it is a journey I must also go deep inside for, which carries its own set of risks and fears and insecurities. I find myself craving like never before for rituals that remind me of her and also take me close to what her life meant to me.

Who would have ever thought that I would find my emotions plummeting with disappointment when I get a phone call from the American Red Cross (as we are literally in the car on the way to the blood drive) that due to unforeseen circumstances they had to cancel the Home Depot drive today? I had just told Jason last night how eager I was for 30 minutes or so by myself in a chair in that little bus thinking about Nora and our journey together. It spurred me on to make the call to RMH's blood center and Jason and I now have appointments for next Thursday afternoon (I did not even know it existed and am thrilled to have a place right here locally that uses the blood at RMH where Nora was several times and where we can make regular appointments and Kali can be with us). So I get one week off my "every 8 weeks goal" but also had a few extra moments at home this afternoon which is why this entry that has been sitting unfinished for weeks might actually get posted today.

I'll end with some words that my Dad shared with us recently, that were inspired while sitting on the bench by the little serviceberry tree my family planted in West Virginia at "the mountain house" in memory of Nora.

There are places special to us
Where she could not go
But she entered our hearts
and remains there.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Healing rituals

Who can say what the oldest human ritual might be? Certainly not I, but I feel confident that the pattern we and a largish group of our friends and family followed last evening must be among the earliest.

Here is what we did: Having been invited by us, somewhere in the range of 55 people arrived at our home place, divisions of ornamental perennial plants (in pots, bags, and boxes) in hand, and we planted them together, nearly filling the crescent-shaped garden we've established as a way of honoring and remembering Nora tangibly. Then we went to the house and ate with gusto from the cornucopia of scrumptious food our guests had brought. A number of folks were able to stay and sit with us late into the evening, around an open fire in the fire ring in the front yard, and together we recounted some of our "Nora stories" and sang a few songs.

The basic format--the work of planting, sharing our food, singing and telling stories of absent but remembered loved ones--cannot be an uncommon one in the history of humanity, although in ancient times the demands of survival would clearly have increased the immediacy and necessity of the elements of the ritual. I emphasize the commonality between the ancient past and the activities of last evening to illustrate the depth to which the event, which was created to commemorate the first anniversary of Nora's passing (June 4th was the exact date of her death) resonated with me. It was comforting to feel the reiterated support of so many of those whose encouragement and tangible help made such a difference to us during Nora's life. The benefits to us did not end when Nora's life did, however, because over the past year it has repeatedly come to our attention that the work of grief that we have had before us is rendered more manageable by the good fortune we have of remembering--when we remember the time of Nora's life with all its joys and heartaches--a time when we felt the caring support of our community. Many who pass through such agonizing circumstances do so with the added burdens of disappointment with their community and an acute loneliness.

My spirits were high this evening as I arranged a mulch layer of grass clippings around the new plants. To those who helped create this memorial oasis I wish to express the thanks I fear I failed to make known in the moments the plants changed hands; my mind was rather full at the time: please pardon me. The garden is beautiful, and will only grow more so with the passage of time (this is my fondest wish for the presence of Nora in my life). At one point this evening I stood back to look at the garden, and, experiencing a wave of pleasure, caught myself thinking, 'Well, what do you think, Nora?' It is the first time I have addressed her directly, even in my mind, since her death. Before that moment I had not been aware of having not addressed her, nor felt a need to. But it is striking to me that it felt so natural in that space. I feel hopeful that the Memory Garden will be a place where I can go to be with her. I also feel thankful to those who contributed financially to the garden bench and water feature we plan to place in the garden. I am eager to sit on the bench and watch the children and birds as they are drawn to the sounds and sight of moving water.

My good mood was not just from the aforementioned event. Spring is springing in grand form around here, which is just what this family needs. It was either the late evening of June 4 or the early morning of June 5 that the brood of Carolina Wrens that's been incubating in Kali's bicycle helmet on our front porch made their grand debut. The parents got down to the caterpillar-finding business right away (where and how do they come up with all those bugs?). Also, while weeding the spinach/lamb's quarter bed in preparation for its conversion to bean patch (yes, it's kind of late, but there's still time), I found a nest of baby cottontails in the turf of the garden path. Unfortunately, I found it with my heel, but despite some pitiful (and startling!) squeaking, no harm appears to have been done. Since I don't believe the assertion that touching a baby animal will cause its mother to abandon it on grounds of its smelling funny, I went and called Kali, Janelle, and my sister Emily, who is staying the weekend after the Friday event, and they each enjoyed holding a bunny for a few moments. However, despite the fact that I felt the potential risks were worth it for this one episode of cuddling, I do believe that handling wild animals is generally ill-advised for both parties. This was the only holding we'll do of these little ones, though I'm sure we'll go back for a peek or two.

I suppose there's a basic contradiction with gardeners cooing over the baby wild rabbits being raised in their garden, but my philosophy is generally to make garden preparations with the assumption that whatever creature could be around will be around. This allows us to live more peacefully with the other species that claim this place as home. The spinach and lamb's quarter were grown inside a wire enclosure, and the beans will benefit from the same structure.

Perhaps the above paragraph about garden philosophy and practice provides a reasonable context for giving notice that we are planning to redirect our web log energies towards a modest production (the same format as this blog, most likely) that explicitly expands its focus to accommodate reflections on a broader range of activities and topics, with a general emphasis on our family's attempts to live a joyful and responsible life in this place. We will leave the "Cascades of Light" blog available for perusal, but do not plan to spend time updating it. Writings about the experience of Nora's presence in our lives will be integrated into the broader perspective (this reflects the integration we seek and need).

Thank you for your interest in our family's story, especially as it relates to Nora's brief life. We can only hope that, in reading what is found here, you've gotten at least a taste of what it means to know our dear baby daughter and sister.

More pictures can be seen at http://picasaweb.google.com/bennerj8/1YearGathering#

Thursday, June 4, 2009

One year ago...

A day of much remembering. A week of remembering. A spring of remembering. We have been so grateful for some moments set aside to be more present to our memories and our grieving. We spent several days in WV this past weekend with family and for Jason and I to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. We visited Blackwater Falls twice and Jason and I spent two nights at Douglas Falls B&B (which is right near a river and several waterfalls). We also were able to enjoy the little tree my family planted on the knoll above the swing set at the Mountain House in WV.

Together as a family we spent time last evening listening to a tape recording we made of Nora (like we had created with Kali as a baby) that we had never listened to together. Hearing her almost laugh with Jason brought back memories of the best of times we savored together. It is good and sad to hear her voice.

Today was another day with time set apart, and once again near water. Jason and I spent the time during Kali's school day in a pavilion at Riven Rock Park along the Dry River. The sound of the rain and the water was soothing.

Among the hardest things on our minds were the memories and awareness of the impact of Nora's life and death on Kali. She has seemed very tender the last few days, and for a 5 year old this also means more prone to emotional "meltdowns" (prolonged outbursts). Last night while listening to the tape we were talking about missing Nora. She initially said she did not miss Nora, but then rephrased it to say that she does miss Nora but she doesn't think she misses her as much as I seem to.

Jason and I reflected today on wondering whether we will ever regret not having Kali with us at the time of Nora's death and right after. She did not know when she last held Nora that it was the last time she would hold her. That was hard for us to think about then and even now. Though we can't quite imagine navigating through that night and morning with our own emotions and all the decisions to be made with another little one whose needs are equally important and whose understanding of all that was unfolding would require our full presence with her. So we did our best with finding ourselves in a place we didn't wish to be and knowing Kali was in loving hands.

The rain is still coming down now and looks like it will until about the time we gather with some family and friends tomorrow evening. Several have reminded me that this weather seems fitting for a time of remembering Nora, who left us amidst rain and lightning and thunder.

Coming back home from being away today felt good, and so did receiving various phone calls, emails, notes from friends and family also remembering Nora on this day. Words aren't flowing very easily for me in clear sentences today; I'll end with a poem that Nora's Aunt Christie wrote. Christie shared this day with us last year and so was in our thoughts a lot today too as we relived many of those early moments after Nora's death.

The Death Economy

The other day on the radio, a grieving son said, simply,
Death is for the living.
And certainly, Nora’s thunderstorm departure,
a year ago today,
was crowded with rapt spectators.

But what do we do with our gift, death?
How do we spend it?
Display it? Preserve it?
How many times can we tell the death story?

She lived.
I thank the loving universe for that.
She lived straight through every constraint
her fragile body gathered to itself.

Her life was hers; her death, ours.
I cannot spend her life.
No morals pop up, no lessons about living--
I do not have the right to parse her life.

But her dying day, the structured collapse
of my hopes for her future,
the handfuls of sorrow, baskets leftover . . .
I am still sorting through all this,

arranging a rough parataxis, cluttered taxonomy
of her death
and of mine.

M. Christine Benner
6/4/09