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Everybody Needs A Place To Rest

Fourteen years ago my daughter Madeleine died. The past few years I’ve shared the same writings with you, over and over. I’ve actually altered, edited, and tweaked those words until they have become nothing more to me then the script of her life and ultimately her death.

Today, I looked for and found fresh words to share.  I’m not trying to convince anyone that I’m a better person because I had her in my life. Today I’m just sad. Sad and tired.

I’ll confess I’ve been in a writing slump since November 7 because on that day Travis turned 21 and his twin sister Madeleine didn’t.  And as much as I’d love to pretend that I don’t cry about it any more I can’t stop crying today and that has never happened to me before. I’m crying way too early. I never cry until January 6.

I decided I want to move past this self-induced mourning. So rather than wait until Wednesday, which is the actual anniversary of Madeleine’s death, I am publishing my raw thoughts today, two days early.  I’m feeling them now, so I’m showing them now and I’ll be ready to move on again.

This is my first picture of her.

And this is the last.

And you already know she has a twin brother, Travis.

What you don’t know is that all Travis asked for on his 21st birthday was to receive something that was special from Madeleine that he could have as a keepsake. I gave him the bear she was holding in the first picture.  I meant to keep it forever, but I was surprised how ready I was to let it go.

And what I didn’t know is that on his 21st birthday his drink request was two shots of Jameson. He drank one and left the other sit on the bar that night in her honor.

I’ve got tears again, but these are tears of pride. I’ve spent years studying my daughter’s tiny hand casually draped over the teddy bear.  Now I stare at the  strong adult hand of her brother holding the very same toy. I remember the day I found out I was having twins. I stopped at the hospital gift shop and made my first “twin” purchase. Two teddy bears at $6.99 each made the pair of babies a reality. Reality hit hard when I buried one of the teddy bears with Madeleine, reality came full circle when I was able to hand the remaining bear to Travis.

I’m starting to forget some of the details of the Saturday she died. I’m not sure what kind of weather we had, I know we had glistening, swirling snow on the day she was buried … it was almost magical. But on the day she died, I really don’t remember.

Surprisingly, I do remember slivers from songs I heard on the radio to and from the funeral home while I finalized  arrangements.

Tell me why are we
So blind to see.
That the ones we hurt
Are you and me?

She said I have to go home
‘Cause I’m real tired you see

I ain’t got many friends left to talk to
No one’s around when I’m in trouble

I saw you first
Don’t that give me the right
To move around in your heart
Everyone was looking
But I saw you first

Everybody needs a place to rest
Everybody wants to have a home
Don’t make no difference what nobody says
Aint nobody like to be alone

Let her cry, if the tears fall down like rain
Let her sing, if it eases all her pain
Let her go, let her walk right out on me
And if the sun comes up tomorrow
Let her be, let her be.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls
Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to
I know that you’re gonna have it your way or nothing at all
But I think you’re moving too fast

And I’ve got the predictability of  “this” because it happens every year. Without fail I begin the slide downhill on November 7th and without realizing it, this year I have become abundantly anxious to propel myself as far into the new year as humanly possible, or at least well past January 6.

As a non-fiction author I avoid using poetic license. As a humorist, I seldom embellish to stress the obvious. Writers are allowed to use poetic license to heighten the effect of their work. It wasn’t until this afternoon that I realized I could also use my poetic license to intentionally deviate from all normally applicable rules or practices by bumping ahead the pages of time. Therefore, I am officially moving on with my life two days earlier than usual.

I’m done writing for today. I’m publishing this because I’m ready and through my tears I am smiling.

Madeleine did amazing things in seven years but even more amazing than that, she’s been gone twice as long as she was ever here and I’m still reveling in the ripple effect from her pond. I’m standing strong and tall and I’m ready to grow forward two days early.

Sleep in heavenly peace, Madeleine. Sleep in heavenly peace.