It's Halloween. Tonight we will take Gus trick or treating in his little dragon costume. He has been practicing his roars. I am so excited for him, and a little nervous for myself; it's a first for both of us.
I wonder how Nina-Lou would have wanted to dress up? Would she have preferred a wild animal, or maybe some pink and purple princess monstrosity? Would I have still been able to cajole her into wearing something that I think is cool? Would she be fiercely asserting her independence, like her little brother does already at one and a half?
I know that chances are, if she had lived, I would not know Gus. But, when I fantasize about her living, I imagine them both here. He would love to have a big sister. He stares at bigger kids on the playground, standing awkwardly close, mouth agape. Turner and I chuckle and shake our heads. What a sweet, curious little weirdo.
Winter is approaching, and I miss her so much. In two months it will be her 3rd birthday, but she was never truly born, and I will not know how to celebrate it. Maybe having Gus here will make it easier in a way. Putting the story of his older sister into some sort of context remains a challenge, so my approach is to keep it simple: we had another baby, but she died, and we miss her.
The truth is that none of us really know her. I feel her soul, her essence, on a deep, visceral level, but she never got to really BE in the world, so it's really more of a sensation, a fleeting memory. Like a smell that takes you back somewhere you can't quite remember, but it's so familiar and real. I have moments when I can hold onto that sensation for a bit, and I try to sit with it when I can, protect it and savor it. But there is also the trauma of her birth, and deep sadness. The joy of remembering her will always be coupled with the suffering of grief.
Sometimes I still catch myself wishing so hard that things were different. It's more than a wish, but that's the best word I can come up with for it. It's this deep yearning, mixed with anger and frustration and an almost maddening feeling of desperation. What the fuck? How did this happen to us? The early days after she died are a blur to me, but I do remember one of the first times I was alone after it happened. I came home, walked up my apartment stairs, and for about 5 minutes I utterly lost my mind. I let the grief really take hold, and it was unbearable. I wailed. I pulled out my hair. I truly wanted to die.
It is so wrong that she's gone. I will never be able to reconcile her absence and our permanently broken family with any sort of meaning. I acknowledge that we have found happiness despite it, but I really don't want to be a better person for it, or learn from it, or try to derive any sort of greeting-card-inspired, platitude-of-the-day bullshit from it. It simply remains the greatest tragedy of my life. I miss my daughter, and I don't care to make it palatable or romantic for anyone anymore.
Where are you, Nina-Lou? I feel your quiet eyes and your delicate hands out there somewhere. Deep inside of me, and everywhere, and nowhere.
Today I am truly happy to be on this earth, grateful for my living family, excited to build new traditions, and hold my son, and kiss my husband, and underneath it all I will miss my daughter and know that there is no fixing the pain of losing her.
My heart is broken and yet so full.
<3
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