Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Personal Peace (06/01/06)
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TITLE: Missing Peaces, Ode To Wyatt And Tiffany | Previous Challenge Entry
By Brenda Craig
06/02/06 -
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“Mommy, Mommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.
“It’s ok Aaron,” I replied, not really hearing what he said. Instead, my eyes were captivated by a black and white photo sliding ever so gently as if in slow motion, specifically designed to get my attention. With a final flutter, it landed at my feet.
The words “Go on and play. I’ll take care of this,” escaped my vocal cords in strangled tones. Looking at the photo, I felt my heart crack in two. Avoiding the confrontation was no longer an option. Picking up the photo and little peach colored cloth envelope, I felt my chest tighten, constricting my breath. How could one little envelope hold so many memories; so much pain.
Anguish cried, “Help me Lord! Please have mercy.”
With compassion He drew me to our secret place.
Sitting in my prayer room; the years melted away. Delving into the depths of the envelope I discovered forgotten treasures. A little pink ducky, more photos, a pacifier- never used, a yellow crocheted beanie, broken hospital bands, and a dry, crushed rose bud taped to a card that said, “Congratulations,” tumbled out onto my lap. Congratulations! What were they thinking?
Something crinkled inside the envelope. Curious I peered in, pulling out a small certificate with an imprint of two tiny feet a little over two inches long, staring up at me, grasping like so many tentacles at my frayed emotions. Remnants of two lives lay motionless in my hands.
“Oh God, I never knew them. I never held them. I wasn’t even there when you called them home. I never spoke hello or good-bye. All I have is Wyatt’s black and white photo, so as not to see his blue color and Tiffany’s blurry ones, that I might not discern the fact she wasn’t fully formed. “
The only clear face in any of the photos was my daughters. Pain and suffering so great it seemed as if the photo was etched. “I’m sorry Dawn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Sobbing uncontrollably, I fell on my face, hugging the little pink ducky and yellow beanie.
“I’m sorry Wyatt. I’m sorry Tiffany Marie.”
“Please forgive me for never allowing you to have entrance into my heart.”
Out of sight out of mind no longer offered any comfort, as the photo of Wyatt dressed in a white gown sleeping in his little cedar box, penetrated my soul.
“What you don’t know can’t hurt you,” so they say. Who are they to speak with such authority? I haven’t met the mysterious they, yet their advice is ever so prolific, handed out at great expense. As for me, not knowing them hurt me. Not being there hurt Dawn.
Everyone said, “It’s for the good. Dawn didn’t need to have children anyway. You know, she could never take care of them.” Reducing her to some mindless creature without feeling was the worst crime of all. Many who loved her agreed, forming scars upon her heart. Dawn and I have made our peace and much healing has come into her life. Even though she struggles with the same mental issues, forgiveness has made great inroads. For Dawn, the best is yet to come.
However, for me, my time had come.
Doing what I swore I wouldn’t do, I opened the hidden drawer in an old wooden cabinet belonging to my grandma, pulling out an ornate blue vase topped with a delicate wispy cover. “Oh, Lord, it’s so tiny, so fragile, just like the remnants of Tiffany’s life held within.”
Looking up, I cried out, “Why have I waited so long to make peace with my guilt, my pain, with my grandchildren? “
Whether buried states away, never held, or delicately contained in a beautiful urn they are my grandchildren now. They are no longer hidden memories, but celebrated lives. Inner peace settling like quiet waters, made all things well.
Aaron bounded into the room as I placed the beautiful urn on the mantle. Stopping abruptly, he asked, “Is that my sister? Where is my brother, Mommy? Why did I live?”
Before I could speak, he took my hand, smiled and said, “Its ok Mommy. Don’t cry. I know why. You needed me.”
Besides, Mommy, “They’re playing with Jesus now.”
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Aaron is my daughter Angela Dawn's first child. Just disappointed I made a good story confusing. I hope inspite of my blunder you get the message of hope, healing and peace.
It wouldn't take much at all for you to be pleased with this precious story. I think it's worth working on to help someone else and you could include other insights and lessons you would want to share.
Thank you for going through what you had to, to write this. You did a very good job.