It's that day of the year again, isn't it, love?
That day where once, or twice, or a handful of times I stop and really think about you.
Not in the usual sort of passing way that has become your visits to me of late; the random idle wonder at the sight of a dark head in a gaggle of teenage girls, or the fleeting memory of a still small bundle of yellow flannel jammie.
But a dead stop remembering you as you were, and remembering me as you were to me.
Not the tiny day-old baby girl that was all that you would ever be. That was your mom, who carried you all those long and fretful months. But to me; the gangly girl you might have been, or the petulant and angry teenager I hoped you'd avoid becoming, or the compact dark young woman who would one day stand over my grave and remember me.
Instead I got to stand over yours, and now I am almost all there is; your mother and I and a handful of our friends, to remember you.
I'm sorry you never got the chance to grow up into all those dfferent people, darlin'. I miss those people and all the other people you might have been but never could be. I wish that I was going home tonight to find you pissed off and arguing with your sullen little brother and pushing aside your goody-goody little sister and shouting at you to lighten up and lay off your siblings, which says something pretty brutal about how much I miss the you I'll never get to know.
I do enjoy our little visits on this day, troubling as they are at times.
I wish you could stay for a while longer. But tomorrow you'll be gone. Again. As you were, and as you always will be, even though in your quiet and ephemeral way you'll be here as long as I am. That doesn't really count. Not next to the you that isn't here with me.
And, look; it's time to go already. Yes, I'll miss you. No, I'm sorry, you can't stay longer. Yes. I'll think of you again.
I always do.
Goodbye, love.
Goodbye.
Bryn Rose Gellar
March 1, 2002 - March 2, 2002
John,
ReplyDeleteBryn Rose died March 2, 2002, but she is not gone as long as one person remembers her.
She exists in your and Deb’s minds and hearts. Please know that she is present in me as well. Just this early morning, on my way out the house in dim light, I spent a moment in wonder looking at the purple crocuses I planted next to a rose bush after Bryn’s funeral. For fifteen years in a row their fragile beauty rises up out of the cold ground the first of March. I love that the flowers bloom each year when Bryn was alive. I note that, like her, they too, share their tender beauty with us for just a few days.
Be well my friend. John C.
Chief, every year.
ReplyDeleteMate,
ReplyDeleteI've been following your page for a while, as a fellow 'red leg' (albeit I'm Aussie) of the 70s to early 90s vintage; liberal; and now a father (@47) of a teenager after some sad setbacks. I thought I'd get past today's post without crying, but no. I can't imagine your sadness, but I wish I could be so eloquent if I were in your shoes.
Your page is #3 of my daily look - sorry, Doctrine Man & War is Boring are log ins only in chronological order, yours exercises my mind more.
Time zones will stuff up timely recognition of the life and love of Bryn Rose. Please accept my apology for any misspelling.
Stay safe and well, my TARA SGT.
Ozguns
I never know what to say when you write so beautifully about Bryn every year. Thank you for sharing who she was and who she might have been with us.
ReplyDeleteThis was so beautiful to read. Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteJohn: Thanks, and I edited the post to reflect your thoughtfulness.
ReplyDeleteBig Fred, Ozguns, Dale Ann, Talyssa: thank you, and I am beholden for your kindness. This day is never easier, much as I often hope it will be, and I deeply appreciate your consideration.