Requiescat in Pace

(Today, November 14, my daughter Heather would have been thirty.)

 

A MATTER SO SMALL

I never saw her, my daughter, my Heather

I felt her prenatal kicks;

I patted my belly

Named her Little Harry Eagleclaw

She liked my rocking chair, I think

Kicking when I would pause to stop

She died, bones crushed by the weight of her own body fluids

A mystery, they said, so sad, they said, you'll have another, they said.

I nodded, always the acquiescent essence of a good girl

Not willing to bother anyone, for a matter so small.

Until one morning, when the sun came up a little slanted

Illuminating the white hot fierceness of loss

I moaned and wailed and beat my fists upon the walls

Demanding retribution, demanding an accounting

Demanding God to show himself, to strike me dead

And when I was done, God being silent

I lay spent, alive, yet not, pieces of my soul released and gone forever

Buried with my perfect monster child, my daughter, my baby, my Heather.

Tempus animae medicus. 

Until Next Time … 

Note this post first published online, November 14, 2007, at Desktop Genealogist Blog at The News-Messenger Online http://www.thenews-messenger.com/apps/pbcs.dll/section?Category=BLOGS02

© 14 November 2007, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder