Unfrozen

    It’s Susanna’s birthday today. She was born sixteen years ago, during a deep freeze and snowstorm. The pipes froze while she was arriving, but the iron boiler installed in the kitchen of our new basementless home chugged on. The ice clogs within the pipes dissolved soon after, and Cesar washed the pile of dishes accumulated as I slept with my two babies. This was the beginning of the five years I spent with both of my children, alive with me. She slept peacefully in a battery-operated swing during the days that winter, wearing pajamas with cow prints or pink leopard.

    I miss Susanna always, and my thoughts of her, every one of them, are laced with the pain of her having left. This morning, I meditated with a guided video and went to purposefully look for her. I do not know exactly where we all go, after dying. For me the details and specifics are vague, but I know we go on.

    I located her in a meadow of spring flowers and asked her a question. I have wanted to know; does she grow up on the other side? I cannot see a sixteen-year-old daughter. My visual of her can only reach age five. Susanna in her tulle and satin party dresses, ponytails held with tiny colored rubber bands. Susanna with a giggly sweet voice, full of airy music. I can hear her singing songs from Frozen, my winter baby.

   During the weeks after she died, I heard the soundtrack incessantly. The words that stood out: I’m never going back. The past is in the past. That perfect girl is gone. I felt like she had left me because I had not given her a magical life here. We had not used our ballroom. We had not used the salad plates, and Susanna opened the gates and left, for the first time in forever.

    Susanna had an answer, and I came to write about it in her blog. I don’t think this should be kept to myself.

    As relayed to me: Yes! I am growing up here. It’s so much better. I am so much happier than when I was there.

(This was hard for me. I want her to be here. But there is more).

    I can see everything on earth. The lights go off. The sun goes down, the city lights go out. Susanna can see all the changes during the day, and the changes in the seasons, which have become so important to me. But she can also see far above that, the solar system. She can see that the sun is always there, even when it is hidden from those who live here.

    I was still confused about the difference between her being sixteen or five, but I sense that this part is non-linear. Susanna said that she is everyone. She is all of us, every wise woman, every ancestor, every person. The things I wished I could teach her, my life wisdom, she knows them. She can see me, at any age. She has that, all my love, plus more.

    I wish she were here, even as the world looks broken, burning and treacherous. But I understand. I see why it may seem better there. All that I wanted was to know that my child is happy and cared for, just the same as my grown child who remains. I needed this. Happy birthday Susanna. I’m going to bake a cake. I love you forever.

More of my illustrations here https://www.electricpastrydesigns.net/