'Firstborn'

bedower

bedower

Jedi Master
This has been a very strange day, and links to my last post in 'Psychomatium' in a way I haven't been able to define yet.

Today is my eldest daughter's birthday, or would have been, had she not made the decision to take herself away from us.

My daughter died four years ago, and my hands are shaking so much I can barely type. I could not weep then, but I am weeping now. She was so much a part of me that her leaving seemed to rip out part of my essence. This wound still has not fully healed.

After her death, my youngest daughter made the decision to move the two us out of the family hame and away from the abusive man we lived with, whom I now know to have been a psychopath and full-blown narcissist. In our new home, I 'computered up', discovered SOTT, and the rest, as they say...

The point of this post is a poem I wrote about my daughters when they were both still young and innocent - 1981/2, not sure which. This is the verse about my first ewe lamb:

'Firstborn'

The first a daughter of the South,
full of sun and joy;
of laughing face and open heart.
As tall and straight of limb as the Reed,
for that was her country.
Hair not blond, but with sheen
as moonlight upon copper.
Quick to rage and laugh and weep.

Vulnerable.'

What terrible prescience made me write that last word?

Please do not think I am writing this to gain your sympathy; believe me, there is nothing anyone can, or has been able to say, that will ever lift this stony hand. She is with me always in the back of my mind, whatever else I am doing.

Thank you for reading this, my tribute to my dear, much-loved and always missed daughter.
 
Hi bedower

I know only a little of being a (step) parent, and cannot even fathom the depth of love and loss you must have felt and still feel.

But I recognise the looking to the past the way you are doing now.....and the sorrow that brings in of itself.
The sence of guilt.

What terrible prescience made you write that last word?
I would have to say, none.
To you she was vulnerable at the time, but not in the way you now project into the past and onto your words and yourself.
It is the desire to undo what was done, by looking to change the past.
To blame yourself, to add guilt to repress the pain of loss.

I hope you manage to find what you are seeking.
My thoughts go with you, in empathy of your suffering.
 
Hi Bedower,

I can only imagine what it would be like to lose a child but my thoughts go with you as well.
I hope you'll find peace with this grief someday.
 
My heart goes out to you and your loss. Words said or wrote cannot heal, and maybe nothing can truly heal your pain, but you are a good poet, and in my experience, writing helps.

Glad to read that you can now cry and weep. (Un-asked for) Advice: let yourself feel it all in every cell of your being. Then give yourself, every cell of your being, the love you wish you could give her now.
 
Beautiful poem.

I'm sorry for your loss. It is still very recent, bedower. The pain of losing a loved one (I can't even imagine one's own child) does ease with time.
 
Bedower, my heart aches for you and with you. Words cannot heal and - contrary to popular wisdom - neither does time. Just know that other mothers, including myself, weep with you. It could be any of us at any time, in your shoes; your loss is ours too.

Happy Birthday to your daughter.
 
Thank you to all of you. This is the first time I have been able to open up about my daughter to anyone.

My youngest daughter, herself a mother now, still grieves for her sister. I know it, but she will not talk about it. It is still too painful for her. She has named her young daughter after after her aunt; and the only way she and her older brother will ever know their aunt will be through photographs and our memories. We, or more especially I, will have a lot to tell them. This is another form of grief for us, that my lost daughter is missing the joy of her nephew and neice. She would have spoilt them even more than I do.

Laura,

You may be interested to know how this post came about, because it closely concerns the Cassiopaean site and all the hard work you have put into it. I could write here; "If only I had known
about this site sooner..." but that would serve no purpose. It wasn't meant to happen that way.

It began with Neil Mavin's thread about UFOs. Initially, I thought the other Forum members, especially Anart, were being rather too hard on him. My sympathies were more with him, than with the (I thought) rather harsh replies. But as I read more of the post, I began to realise that when I was thinking; "Hey, that's not fair. Leave the guy alone", what I really meant was "Hey, I think like that. I do that". It was an eye-opening moment, I can tell you! But Anart couldn't hear my indignation, so she just kept on swinging that metaphorical hammer. Guess what? I don't know about Neil, but although the 'hammer' was aimed at him, it was demolishing my carefully built buffers, dispatching a couple of my sacred cows, knocking down the bricks that hid my mirror and letting in some light.

Anart, if you're reading this, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Healing at a remove, eh? How impressive is that?

And Neil, if you're reading this, thank you too, for opening the door by posting your thread.

After this, I started to take more notice of the threads dealing with psychopathy and narcissim. Although I can see now that my ex-husband is a psychopath, a narcissist and probably an OP, I can also see that I myself showed definite narcissistic traits. Not only that, but so did my mother. Knowledge which came too late to help my irreplacable daughter, alas.

This, I now realise, is what my stupid mirror phobia meant. It wasn't only my predator that was looking back at me, butmyself as well.

After posting the update on the Psychomantium thread, I felt incredible; as though I had just shed a load of bricks from my back. My body was buzzing; tingling all over, and my mind felt energised and expanded in some way. I felt fully alive, as I had never thought to feel again since my daughter's death.

Then I sat down and wept for my daughter. Finally, I could allow the tears to come.

Then I wrote the above post.

Thank you all.
 
Hi Bedower.

I wept after reading your post; I can't imagine how it feels for you.

On the subject of the "fear of the mirror", it really is a LIFE THREATENING thing to be exposed to a mirror. It's threatening the life of the predator which we are completely aligned with. So to actually submit to the mirror and work with the reflection is an affirmation of the choice to become someone new. It's a big message to the universe.

The fear is also very physical because it's our physicality which the predator is married to. I think what I'm trying to say, (and I could be wrong here so sorry if I've seen something that isn't actually there) is that it seems you have a regret that you couldn't face the truth about yourself sooner? But, when you take into account the above, you can see that your fear is completely justified. You're not to blame for that.

Regarding "if only I'd known", I'm sure everyone here feels the same about Laura's work with regards to one thing or another in their life. I have this thought so much, that it created a huge resonance in me when I read the passage I use for my signature, seen below.

Take care, Bedower. We're all rooting for you.

T.C.
 
Bedower,

So sorry to hear of your loss of someone so precious. But I am glad that the tears finally flowed. For that, in itself, will ease some of the grief. Not all by a long shot, but it does help.

There are no words that will help you in your grief, but just know that there are many here who are thinking of you.

Beautiful poem, by the way.

Take care, hugs.
 
Thank you for telling us your story, bedower, may the "result of this suffering become your own, for Being." It is a sign of healing, I think to tell your story. It is healing not because it takes away your pain, but because it invites your sorrow on a level that it can be shared. I'm glad you felt this was a safe space where your pain could be shared.

You are in my thoughts.

Warmly,
Laurel
 
Bedower, my heart goes for you, your family, and your daughter who passed on. May I hope that the tears you are finally crying will help you, not "heal" as in "move on" -- this never happens and is never meant to be -- but to understand more about yourself and the world we all are living in. I feel honored that you shared your innermost thoughts with us. Be assured that we are with you, in this and always.

many hugs {{}}
 
bedower said:
Anart, if you're reading this, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Healing at a remove, eh? How impressive is that?
Click to expand...

I am reading, of course - and it could also be said -- 'Learning at a remove, eh? How impressive is that?' ...

Geniuses learn from the mistakes of others - and we often write 'direct' responses to people in order to reach all those other people who are reading; those who have it 'in them' to hear, for exactly this reason. Thanks for 'hearing' and actually applying it to yourself - that really is what makes all this worthwhile.
 
Bedower:

I read this thread last night, but couldn't respond then. Ever since I've become a parent, I've felt myself a hostage to fortune. Even the contemplation of the loss of one's child is too much to bear.

How beautiful is the child you describe in your poem . . .


Laura said:
Bedower, my heart aches for you and with you. Words cannot heal and - contrary to popular wisdom - neither does time. Just know that other mothers, including myself, weep with you. It could be any of us at any time, in your shoes; your loss is ours too.
Click to expand...
 
Reading through your responses brought a lump to my throat and made my hands start shaking again; but with good emotions this time.

All of your responses have both humbled and uplifted me.

My thanks many times over.
 
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