Just beginning to write about Samantha's life has made her so much more real to me again. Sometimes I feel as if I imagined the whole thing. Yesterday we went to the cemetery to visit Samantha's "spot" as we call it for my daughter. There was a funeral at the time which brought back all kinds of memories. At Samantha's funeral I felt as if I had to be carried from the car. I couldnt get out of the car. She had been dead for days and yet, here I was struggling to say good bye. Sometimes I wish I had screamed at the funeral. I feel like maybe it wasnt clear to all who were there just how I felt. But I assume they knew. I wish I had some pictures from the funeral. I just scrapped the ones from the rosary and it is so nice to see them looking beautiful and acknowleding my experiences. I am thinking about emailing everyone I know just to see if anyone might have pics but didnt want to or forgot to tell me about them. At the rosary I was sort of in a wierd mood. Even though it was obviously sad- I hadnt gotten to share my daughters with anyone! They were in the NICU and Hannah even when she came home couldn't have visitors because of the risk of getting sick. So here I was with an opportunity to tell everyone how special Samantha was. I told them everything about her. Some people shared with me stories of loss- some kind of inappropriately but I tried to be compassionate.
One of the best things someone did for me was to just show up. A very dear friend of mine came and camped out in a hotel and said- call if you need me, or come over if you want, otherwise just forget Im here. It was a lifesaver. And then there was the food- oh there was food everywhere. Not only was it a comfort to know we were not alone, but it was a comfort to eat without thinking. If I had needed to think, I probably would have starved.
Being at the cemetery is always sad and somehow wonderful. I feel like I am with her in a special way. "I believe in the resurrection of the body" This is something I have said every Sunday as a part of the apostles creed and never really gave another thought to. We are human- we are body-spirits. So I do feel that having her body there is special to me. I imagine her on the day of the Resurrection. Fully glorified body revealing her true self. I can't wait to hug her.
It's nice to see her name, even if it is on a headstone. And nice when people want to "see" her. No matter how hot it is, it's hard to leave. I like having our family sort of together. I want to say more about her life and stop talking about her death but I guess that's where I am right now. A lady at mass recognized me and asked which was the twin and how did she die. In a way I thought it was a little nosy- but mostly I was happy to talk about her and that someone cared enough to ask. She said- that was horrible. I said- it is horrible. I always want to say "but" after that. There really is no "but" although there are "and"s. AND I am grateful for Hannah and Alexandra. AND I am grateful for each moment I spent with Samantha. The lady thought she had died before birth- not that it matter so much- but it does to me. I spend 40 days expecting to bring her home. It's nice to have her acknowledged. Even by someone I really don't know.
1 comments:
I know what you mean about wishing you'd screamed at her funeral. I sometimes wish I had yelled "NO!" at the doctor when he told us August wasn't going to live, as if protesting loudly and vehemently enough might have changed the outcome.
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