Saturday, December 27, 2008

Lo, I am With You Always

This year, we spent Christmas at my sister's house. She and I cooked Christmas brunch, instead of the traditional dinner.

The wood stove kept us warm, while the snow fell in huge flakes outside. After the meal, we played a very long game of Taboo, laughing the whole time.

We sang Christmas songs while our friend, Mark, played the piano. Mom and I even played a few duets together that she taught me when I was a kid.

We exchanged a few simple gifts around the Christmas tree, which was a large house plant Sarah had put Christmas lights on.

It was such a happy day. And I found that while I thought about Sage and Dad, I was not overcome by sadness as I was on Thanksgiving.

Last night, though, the sadness was like a pressure in my heart, and I was awake until 4:00 in the morning. I spent most of that time doing what I could to push back the pain and avoid facing it. What exhausting and pointless work that is!

This morning, I have come down with a head cold, and I am depleted from lack of sleep, but I feel myself able to let the sadness be here. And there is some release in that.

I don't know if it is a coincident that I feel this way today, the 9-month anniversary of the accident. In 5 more days, Sage will have been gone as long as he was alive. I don't really intend to keep track of these dates. What are they but numbers? But I do find myself aware of them . . . So it is.

This is a photo of last Christmas. Sage is opening one of his gifts, a wooden xylophone, which he was quite interested in chewing on.

When I look at photos of Sage, I still feel so incredulous that he is gone. There is this extraordinary impotence - what in the world can I do? And, the real question - how can I be? How can I be with my experience of Sage, including his death?

Lo, I am with you always.

You promised that,

and when I realized it was true

my soul flared up.

Any unhappiness comes

from forgetting.



SerineKat said...

As bitter as though memories can be when Sage and your father are gone they are also such a gift, if you think it's hard now, imagine a world never touched by those two amazing souls! You are right just to let the emotions come and then go. Holding them at bay only pisses them off. Just breathe and be thankful. Those souls could have been given to anyone, God gave them to you... lucky girl!

janis said...

((hugs)) Jessie... no matter how many wise words I read, there comes a time when it all collapses, nothing holds, sadness and missing takes over... much love to you. xoxo

Anonymous said...

Your sharing, your words...they always move me. Thank you, Jessie. Susan

Anonymous said...


Have you lost your 'list' of people you can call in the middle of the night? I am not certain if it would help you, but this is the kind of time that we talked about so many months ago. These times will come to you like a thief in the night, and it may help you feel not so alone if you can just look at your list and know that we are all out here if you need us. And then perhaps you will feel like calling one of us so that we can hug you all over again. All of us love you sooooo much.

Laura said...

Life is surreal in so many ways. To know that Sage will be gone as long as he was here is a stab in an open and weeping wound. Such love from such a sweet soul, taken too soon.

I weep for your loss Jessie!

I think too of those arbitrary numbers - my oldest who has been here longer than Kyle is an example. How my heart aches for that fact and the void in so many lives left behind.

Hugs to you and Michael!