Days Like This.

There are moments.
Not fun ones.
When I am caught in a memory, or stuck in the present, all alone.
Lily had a sleepover at her Granny's this weekend, and though it allowed me a much needed respite and cherished down time, there are moments when her temporary absence has a reverse effect.
Such as Sunday.
When I woke up to utter silence.
No chatter from her crib, no soft landing & pitter patter to my bed followed by a light kiss on my cheek. No "Mama, is it a school day, Turleta day, Granny day or Mommy day?"
Just quiet.
And this weekend it hurt. And scared me.
Haunted by the fearful thought to self - how would I be if I didn't have her.
My Lily.
The answer is not one I like to ponder.
When Alan passed away - I had a desperate need to hold on to whatever was inside. Lily was barely the size of a gummy bear and I was ever fearful she wouldn't make it.
How could something so delicate ever endure such emotional pain.
I was terrified that my anguish would be the end to my nightmare/dream.

But she held fast, my resilient, determined,butterfly.
And when she did arrive, it was as though it could never have been any other way.
She was healthy. Beautiful. She had made it.

Here.

Much to be grateful for, I remind myself constantly.

But on Sunday I gave myself a scare, wondering how well I was really doing. My loneliness is immeasurable - and cannot be alleviated by even the most wondrous child. And it shouldn't have to be.
May she never feel weighted by such a void.
I took myself out to breakfast, the air too searingly cold for tears, and choked down breakfast I hoped might keep the sobs at bay.
Me and my book at the bar.
Good times.
And then home I went, crawled into bed, and slowly recovered from the morning's darkness.

Lily came back to me and clung fiercely as I lifted her out of the car-seat.
I knew that soon she'd be crying for her Granny & BebeO - transitions are challenging - but it felt so good to feel us each holding on so tightly.
Within the hour she was singing, dancing and told me,
"I am happy Mama, because you gave me blackberries".

I was happy too.
Because Alan gave us each other.

Thank You Patti. (And my everloving flower)

Our year was a good one.
Loaded, but hearty with happy firsts and challenging as the two of us guided one another - teaching ourselves what it is to be parent and child, mother and daughter, friends. I never guessed that a child less than three could be so powerful a force, so sharp yet naive - so energetic - so imaginative - so beautifully self-guided with her movements - and could nearly break me with exhaustion, bring me close to tears with despair and resurrect me with kisses on my brow.

Yes on my brow.

Perhaps she learned it from me.

I wonder often as I marvel at her evolution - which parts are Alan, which parts are Susan and which parts are pure Lily.
As one of my oldest friends reminded me on New Years Eve Day,

she is not a passive child.

And I was comforted by those words. What a gift those words were, Sensei Alexis, ever wise and wonderful friend. My tendency is to blame my skills at motherhood rather than acknowledge that I am growing a little being, and she is who she is. I will steer, but she - already - is making her own roads.

Her brain sparks differently - she said, and it is true.

Some don't get that, she said.
Fellow moms are the ultimate comfort ~ and the ones who are ahead of me, golden.

After our conversation I found myself gifted with an evening to myself. So I rolled off the bed, lethargic, feeling a bit broken but hungry for a lift, took a bath.
A bath.

And then I took myself to see Patti Smith.

A fine last move for 2011.

Her chords enveloped me, her words, her presence - nice to end the year with the encouragement of another strong, most remarkable woman.
She was uplifting.
Invigorating.
Guiding.
Loud, soft, modest, endearing, funny, evocative, electric.
Expressive hands, graceful and masculine.

Another friend cheered me via text "BOLD!!".
So grateful for my friends.

I do have courage - though every now and then it idles.
But the choice to go was easy.
And then Patti was my beautiful reward.
Bold times two.
Bold for two.
And ready for our next chapter.
Excited for a new year.

Grateful to be alive.
And to feel that way as well.