October 5, 2020 marked 18 months to the day since Lizzy died, making Cecilia 17 months old. With each day that passes, the fact of Lizzy’s death becomes just a little more concrete. By this, I mean that the utter despair, the raw and shredding grief, and the searing isolation become that much more ingrained…
I just thought of one thing that’s permanent. Love. – Olaf, Frozen 2 September 29, 2020 Cecilia lay fitfully beside me, fading in and out of sleep. Again and again, she veered towards consciousness, crying briefly and bumping her head against the headboard, unable to settle and unable to sleep. I murmured meaningless noises, trying…
One of the unanticipated and under-discussed consequences of grief is improved acting ability. By this, I mean that the more time that passes since the death of your loved one, the more proficient you become at convincing the world that you are stable and functional. If you have other children, your ability to act may…
In the early days of my grief, back before Cecilia’s diagnosis–before I even knew she was blind–I texted my big sister that even though Cecilia wasn’t Lizzy, she was still a world unto herself, still worth dedicating my whole life and being to. It was an important emotional milestone for me and one that has…
In January of 2019, I lay prostrate in a dimmed radiology room with Lizzy perched like a parrot in the crook of my arm. Her fingers curiously followed the mysterious path of the doppler as the rhythm of Cecilia’s uterine heartbeat filled the room. “Yep, it’s a girl,” said the radiologist, showing us the dual…
On April 16, 1879, St. Bernadette Soubirous of Lourdes died at age 35. She was always a sickly child, barely surviving the cholera epidemic of 1855 and suffering from asthma all throughout her short life. Towards the end, she developed tuberculosis, culminating in a tubercular tumor on her right knee. According to the nuns who…
Like most sighted toddlers, Lizzy was a wonderful mimic. She loved doing all the grown up things that I would do. When I brushed my hair, she wanted to brush her hair; when I put on lip balm, she thrilled when I next bent to apply it to her tiny, pursed lips. When I swept…
In recent weeks, I have been forced to conclude that happiness is something that sort of sneaks up on you. I think I reject the idea that you can “deserve” happiness or even pursue happiness as though it’s some sort of end in itself. I rather suspect that happiness is instead a byproduct of 1)…
On Wednesday, Cecilia will turn fifteen months old. Her tiny feet are still turned inwards, monkey-like, and her fragile ankles struggles to support the weight of her growing body. She works her little heart out every day while practicing standing, taking steps, shifting her weight, balancing, turning, and clasping onto my arms and fingers to…
When I was in college, I simply couldn’t understand why atheists got out of bed in the morning. What was worth living for? What was worth dying for? What mattered beyond material satiety? And if you believe that we were made from nothing and destined for nothing, then why didn’t you just kill yourself to…