Andrea's birthday

Yesterday we celebrated what would have been Andrea's 30th birthday. It so very surreal to think that she has been gone for 10 years and would be beginning her third decade. For us she is forever 19.

I started the day with an early, early morning hot tub soak and the praying of the rosary. Although my spiritual path has veered away from the Catholicism of my youth, I began the ritual of praying the rosary on Andrea's birthday a number of years ago. The second host family Andrea lived with in Spain when she was 14 were devout Catholics and Andrea was taught to pray the rosary with them. I use the rosary they gave her. I pray daily, but there is something deeply satisfying in this once a year rosary tradition. It connects my past with my present in a beautiful way.

We spent the afternoon with our daughter Jocelyn and our grandchildren Fischer, 4 and Trinity, 2. Fischer is a student at a Waldorf school and so has been introduced to the concept of death through the metaphor of "The Rainbow Bridge." It is this bridge that all living things will cross when they shed their earthly garments and continue on in new, more radiant [my words] attire. Fischer has created a number of cement grave markers for the dear pets who have died in his short life: his sweet cat Rocky, his boisterous, loving dog, Diesel and his wise and cherished Boxer, Moe. Fischer knows and has taught his younger sister Trinity that Aunt Andrea has also crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

Even so, when Fischer heard me explain that we'd see each other on Andrea's birthday and celebrate her with cupcakes and a song he exclaimed, "But Aunt Andrea is dead!" I smiled and said "Yes, but we can still celebrate who she was and who she has become." He gave me a big smile and a thumbs up ... it was absolutely no problem for him.

Tom shared with me this morning an article from the Washington Post Writers Group. The author, Carolyn Hax was responding to a reader in her "Dear Carolyn" column. Her words are apropos for our situation:

Small children are soft, their clothes and toys are soft, their food is soft, our voices around them are soft -- I get the impulse to keep their worlds completely soft.

But since every living thing is going to die, death -- of a grandparent, pet, neighbor, even parent or sibling -- eventually crashes the padded party ...

Sometimes well meaning adults try to keep the padding in place anyway, only to make things harder for the child: "Grandpa is sleeping," that classic dodge, can leave a kid terrified of going to bed and never waking up. Going vague -- "He went away," "He's with God/the angels" -- can set active imaginations running without a map. Anchor faith with facts. Information can scare children, sure, but so can the absence of it.

Answering children's questions with simple truths allows them to learn big concepts in small bits, which they can process at their own pace: "All living things stop working after a while, "it's sad but it's also part of nature," "most people live a very long time." ... The questions themselves -- which reflect where kids are developmentally -- set the pace.

Factual answers to a child's questions, meanwhile, sow trust, as kids learn to connect honest questions with honest (if judiciously abridged) answers. There's no "You told me X and now I see it's Y" ambush lurking ahead.

I happen to love the "Rainbow Bridge" metaphor...the image of Andrea crossing this bridge and waving to us from the other side is a sweet one and it is in line with my faith and knowing that our journeys do not end with death. And with that, I send you ...

Blessings until next time,

Doris

 

Comments

[www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1338978502]

What a beautiful description. I hope that one day I can be confident in such a metaphor but as all things, I guess it takes time. Knowing that you have been able to have confidence in your faith and come to terms with your loss is reassuring yet continues to make me so sad. Just as I had this reaction a few years ago, I can't help but think your loss was so unfair. Perhaps survivor's guilty kicks in a bit, but even beyond that, you and Tom are able to share the legacy and life of Andrea in such a powerful way that I feel I know her, and have known her, and I get so upset that such an amazing young woman was taken from this earth so young. I can't imagine how challenging it is for you to celebrate her 30th birthday and knowing how much she had to offer or wondering what she would be up to today but as your wise grandson taught us, Life is a Rainbow and our time on earth is only part of the journey of life. I wish I had shared my birthday wishes with you when you were here. I'm sorry I did not.

[Becky Henry]

Doris,
Thank you for such a beautiful description of how your family is courageously living with the reality of Andrea having crossed over the rainbow bridge as you say. I love that mataphor also. When so many families are losing loved ones lives to eating disorders, you are a bright shining light, leading the way to a beautiful way of celebrating your daughter on her birthday. Thank you for bravely sharing your celebration with us.