I have a lot of worries these days.
I was talking to my best friend the other day about how I’m worried that, as time passes, Eleanora won’t visit us as often as she does now—in baby sparrows, in eucalyptus, and in her continuously-blooming yellow roses. I also worry that what I’m considering to be visits from her are not actually visits, but just things I’m noticing because I’m hyperaware of them now. In other words, if I see eighteen baby sparrows throughout my day, are all of them her? Or am I just noticing them more frequently because I want their presence to be a visit from my daughter?
(Truly, I see baby sparrows everywhere. It’s almost always just one, looking directly at me. When we went out for breakfast the other morning, and I got out of the car to find one perched right in front of me. When I pulled up to the salon last night for some much-needed pampering and there was one waiting by the door. When I’m looking out our front windows, as I often find myself doing when the fog takes over and I begin to wander aimlessly through the house. When my Papa was dying and I was holding his hand in the nursing home. She was there, comforting and waiting.)
She is always there, and I’m terrified of losing her all over again as time goes by.
In response to all of this, Madison said something that I want to hold onto forever. She said, with such wisdom and grace, “Eleanora is not on the same timeframe that we are on. Sixty years to you is not the same thing to her. She’s not going to think to herself, ‘It’s been so long, I don’t need to visit anymore.’ And, she’s always going to be your baby. She is ALWAYS going to need to you and Daniel, too. Why WOULDN’T she visit you multiple times a day?”
I think she’s right.
Shortly before Eleanora died, I started doing a three-week dance workout program from home. I was step-tapping-alone-wears-me-out pregnant, but we had an absolute blast doing those routines together. Even after the music stopped, she would always just keep wiggling as if to say, “Keep dancing, Mama.” I was a dancer throughout my entire childhood and adolescence, and it felt so special to share something I love so much with her.
When she died, I wasn’t sure I could ever touch that program, or dance at all, again.
Yesterday, I decided to try it. I did our favorite routine, a kind of old-timey swing. I shed a couple of tears thinking about how she should be right across the room from me, giggling or sleeping in her bassinet, and instead I was doing it all alone. Even so, I had fun. I proved to myself that it was possible.
At the very end of the workout, as I was wishing for the hundredth time that she were here, the trainer looked directly into the camera and said, “Don’t forget—don’t forget—keep dancing.”
Keep dancing, Mama.
I promise I will, for both of us.
I finally have an appointment set to get my memorial tattoo for Eleanora done on October 6—exactly one year after we found out we were expecting her.
(Actually, I knew on October 5, but Daniel—always the analytic—didn’t believe the cheapie tests I took that day. We *confirmed* with the fancy digital tests on October 6. 😂)
I’m so excited to get the tattoo done and have a constant reminder that she’s always by my side. When I was talking with the artist about my vision for the eucalyptus bouquet, he asked if I wanted any flowers included. I told him about the rose bush outside her window. He said he thought it would be lovely to include a single small rose amongst the eucalyptus, and I agreed.
I think E likes the idea, too. We went from three blooms a couple of days ago to eight today. Or perhaps she’s just celebrating her two-month birthday (August 10). Either way, I’m glad she’s visiting.
