Friday, December 24, 2010


I am experiencing a strangeness in letting Bronwyn go.  I know that her soul is free of her body and that the two are no longer connected.  Yet I don't quite fully understand the concept.  I still think of her as having a body, as needing bodily comforts.  I wonder if she's getting enough hugs and kisses.  If she's eating well.  If she's being taken care of.  Does she miss me?  Is she scared?  To help myself feel some easing in this physical department, I created a treasury collection of things that I would send with her on her journey, if I could.  Just some silly things to comfort her, and remind her that she is loved.

Here it is:

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Darkest Night

It is here.  The longest night.  The word solstice is derived from the latin sol, which means, "Sun" and sistere, which means, "to stand still."  This year, I feel in equilibrium with the darkness, and one of my favorite poems comes to mind: 

To Know the Dark

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.”

- Wendell Berry

from “To Know the Dark”, Farming: A Handbook

(Harcourt Brace, 1970)

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Seams for Comfort

I find myself in a mystical place of joy and sorrow.  It is difficult to explain and I'm not sure that the explaining will be clarifying anyhow.  So I will tell you what comforts me,  what I've been doing. 

My community has been amazing for the support that I've received.  Flowers, food, cards, hugs, cups of tea, company, and space (when requested) have all been generously and lovingly given. 

Walking and exercise have been invaluable for clearing my head.

The ritual of lighting a candle for Bronwyn reminds me that her flame is alive and with me always.  Someday, that reminder will be present without the physical presence of the candle, but for now the presence of the light helps me.

Also, I have been sewing again.  Not designing, that takes too much creative energy.  But sewing what I know provides a meditative experience, and something for my always figity hands to do.  When we left for the hospital over a month ago, I had been right in the middle of production for the holiday.  So I've finished what I started and my inventory is quite impressive (it looks like I've been busier than I actually have been).  Now I need to photograph everything and get it listed.  I also participated in two local craft fairs with my business partner.  I wasn't sure how it would feel, but it was lovely to get out and be distracted.

The clutch pictured is designed by the talented Keykalou, who has a shop on Etsy.  I purchased the pattern (and the rights to sell my handmade work from her pattern) so that I could just sew without having to think.  I love the shape and feel of this clutch and the way it features the fabric so nicely.

I raise my mug of tea to the day, and let the tears come when they will.  Smiles and hugs follow.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Solitude Standing

Here I am.  At the beginning.  At the end.  A re-birth of sorts. 

I am a vagabond in my own life at the moment, but a vagabond with potential.  What that will look like, I don't know, but I am open to finding out.

 It has been raining buckets this past week, and two days ago I went to one of our local watersheds, McLane Creek, for a few hours of dripping silence.  The chum salmon run had just finished, and their bodies were strewn about the banks of the creek, effort and passion spent.  New Hemlocks grew up from rotting stumps, and moss and lichens re-claimed old branches. 

I reflected on the cycle of life, and felt the reason in it; the peace of it. 

It was a healing walk.

And so it begins.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

What She Gave Me

It has been a long while since I've posted, and I wish I could tell you that it has been so long because of normal busy reasons.  The past month and a half have been difficult because my beautiful daughter suffered from seizures terribly, and the day before Thanksgiving, Bronwyn passed away in the Pediatric ICU in Seattle after all attempts to gain control of her seizures failed. 

I ache with missing her.

I know that grief is a process, and I'm only just beginning.  But I re-read this post that I wrote late in October, and realize how much Bronwyn has taught me about living my life thoughtfully.  Bronwyn has given me so much in her short life, and I realize that she continues to give even now after she's gone.  I take comfort in the knowledge that her flame can burn brightly through my actions, and that her flame can be shared with others.  That is so healing all by itself.

What Bronwyn Gave Me:

An understanding of selfless giving
The ability to listen
How to listen to my heart
The ability to be a strong advocate
The importance of receiving: this is something she's teaching me now.

Thank-You my sweet daughter.  I love you forever; you are always with me. 
Until we meet again.