I get up, grab a bucket, the lime away, a brush, paper towels, all things that in the back of my mind I know I don’t need … but just in case.
I’m in the car. She’s farther away now. I used to jump over to Dairy Ashford and whip on up to Westhiemer and there I was at Memorial Cemetery. Now, if I drive the Westpark Tollway, I have to go to Beltway 8 and up to Westheimer and loop back. I am annoyed with the traffic, with the lights … typical.
Then I am there. I turn in to the quiet plot of land full of lives now over, memories, and the quiet reverence that always seems to lie over places such as these.
Four short turns and I am in another land.
Babyland.
I notice it’s not so bad today. In the past, when the pain for families was more recent, the flowers, the balloons, the toys, the stuffed animals, the happy meals, the childrens drawings were so abundant you could barely walk through the ‘Carnival of Pain and Sorrow’. It hits you like a wet blanket of tears as you try to dodge the baby markers and toys.
It feels like walking into another time, another place – sort of like the doctor in “Field of Dreams” as he steps off the baseball field and becomes something altogether different. I am now someone else. Not the person who drove up in the car and parked here. The memories come fast and furious and swirl in my head: something that I can generally control when I am somewhere else …. anywhere else … but here.
Rachael is buried behind a bush. A nice private place to sit, or to talk, or clean up, or just cry. But also it is hidden and has been my undoing when someone unhappy with my babies’ marker, decided to bury it in 2 feet of ripped up roses. But there are those that have taken to Rachael’s marker also … and leave gifts. So I walk towards the bush, always a little apprehensive, not knowing what I am going to see as I round the corner.
I sigh, everything is ok. And as usual I don’t need my cleaning supplies. One of my Unknown Angels has cleaned her marker as she has done since the day it was installed. Never any lime stains, ant hills, leaves or growing grass near it – which is very much not the case of her neighbors’ markers. I move the flowers and the toys off of Rachel’s marker. It seems to draw those in that are hurting and help them find peace - and for some reason they leave her gifts. I put them on empty, forgotten markers.
I have brought no flowers, or balloons, or toys, or happy meals, or any of the other things surrounding her marker. Her marker is enough, it says it all, and I find wilting flowers just … sad.
I smile, and quietly say ‘Hi Baby’. And even though I told myself that I wouldn’t do it this time, not this year, it’s stupid, and confusing and just plain weird … I can’t stop myself: ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry sweetie.’
To this day I cannot be there without this mantra coming from my lips and I have no idea what I am sorry for. Sorry that she is Celestial and I am not? Sorry that I suck at making babies? Sorry things went down the way they did on that February 14th so very long ago? Sorry it has been so long since the last time I visited, not her ... I know she is not here, but symbolically visited her? Sorry that it is overcast or that I am not wearing the right color shirt? I don’t know.
One day, I will move on. Move past this. Maybe I will even know why.
But not today.*********************************************
And today because of a kind note Courtney wrote:
"May your V-day be filled with tender glorious angel visions."
I decided to photograph the Angels watching over my Little Angel Rachael:
Thank you, Courtney, you made me see past the sadness and pain of 'Babyland' and see the beauty surrounding it.
NOTE: I truly apologize if this has upset anyone or offended you in any way, it was not my intention.
11 comments:
Please don't apologize.. It's beautiful that you went to visit "Your Angel". I like the slide show, thank you for sharing. Our friends from Midland who lost their little boy to a tragic accident one year ago yesterday called their day yesterday "Angel Day" and she posted some quotes that have helped her get through the past 365 days, they are inspiring.....
" The Lord takes many away, even in infancy, that they may escape the envy of man, and the sorrows and evils of this present world; they were too pure, too lovely, to live on earth"
(Joseph Smith)
"The cavity which suffering carves into our souls will one day also be the receptacle of joy."
(Neil A. Maxwell)
What a beautiful quote by Neil A. Maxwell, for I know how that cavity will be filled with joy when you have your sweet Angel in your arms again. You are a beautiful person, Lori.
Lori, thank you so much for sharing. What you wrote was beautiful, tender, and full of a mother's love.
It seems hard to believe that it has been 12 years. I remember so well when you lost Rachael. I probably did a poor job of expressing it, but I was so brokenhearted for you and Gary.
I'm glad I am able to read your blog. I love when you are funny, but I truly love when you write posts like this that draw me in and make me feel emotions I don't always want to feel. Thank you again.
I don't understand what would be offensive in what you wrote. That is your daughter and your
experience and you are entitled to express your feelings about both. Your words are beautiful. Her marker is beautiful and I still hold dear the card you gave me after my miscarriage with that picture on it. To know that someone recognized my loss although my arms never held a baby brought me such comfort. I am grateful for who you are and your willingness to share your experiences, compassion and wisdom with others.
Happy Birthday Rachael. You have a beautiful and amazing mother. Thank you for sharing her with us.
Sarah, that is funny you can't see what is offensive. I was thinking of you. I know the feelings are still probably raw with you and I did not want to upset you or make you feel sad on such a beautiful day of love.
Everyone, thanks so much for your kind words to my 'not appropriate for this day' ramblings!
Lori, thank you for posting the angel montage. I think cemetery sculpture is so beautiful and symbolic.
Also, I love that you spell Rachael's name with 2 a's--very artistic. And I love that her middle name is Fern. I imagine that she has long wavy hair and a lot of moxie just like her mom.
We are all so grateful to you for sharing your experiences with us. It is a pleasure to be your friend.
I love you.
SO touching and i LOVE the angel pics! partly because of you i am thinking seriously about taking up photography!
i'm crying as i read this in front of all the fam!
I still love her headstone. What did you mean by the comment that some leave things because they don't like it?
The first year the headstone was there, I went one day with flowers – the first Valentines Day I think. I turned the corner and someone had BURIED the headstone in ripped up shredded flowers it was a two foot high mound that completely obliterated the headstone. I tried calling Gary and couldn’t get him. I got my mom and all I could say was “There’s so many petals” over and over again. The cemetery thought I was nuts when I reported it, but came out with me and said it was the weirdest thing they had ever seen. They took photos, but said the guy was good – it is only illegal if you damage the headstone – you can defile it all you want, and they assumed there were about $200.00 worth of ripped up roses there. You could feel the rage. It was weird. Nothing like it has happened again.
Think I saw the guy. There was a dude sitting on a bench watching me approach. I forgot all about him, but later, when I was not as hysterical, when I went towards him to see if he had seen anything he ran. I wandered the entire Cemetery (same with the workers) to see if the colors were a combination somewhere and someone just stole them, but there was not anything with the color combination on top of her marker.
I am sure someone just wanted to get their jollies watching a bereaved mother frantically digging through ripped up rose petals trying to see if her beloved headstone was still there.
Fun, fun, fun….
Everything else (for the most part) is nice. As if someone had adopted the marker and wanted to make sure it had a stuffed animal (lots) or silk flowers (lots) or church medallions (a few) on it.
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