Home » dverse » A Brief, Bright Light

A Brief, Bright Light

 

He was a surprise, and arrived too soon, and with many challenges.  His heart was broken, but they believed it could be fixed, later.  In his seven-month, twenty three-day lifespan, I discovered a strength I did not know I had. I discovered I was capable of dealing with a sick child and giving him so much love and the best life I could for the five-and-a-half months we had him at home.  He saw his aunt barrel race, he kicked his feet in his grandmother’s lake and in our pool.  He was adored by all.  I refused to keep him in a bubble, knowing, I know not how, he would not be with us for a long time.  No medals, no ribbons, no accolades can ever match the self-respect and pride I feel for handling Austin’s birth, life and death with the grace I did.

 

Flowers bloom with joy

Nurtured by the sun until…

Silenced by winter

 

It’s all Merril‘s fault again.  I wasn’t going to participate in yesterday’s dVerse challenge because I thought it would be too hard. Then I read Merril’s and decided to go for it.  Lillian is the host and she asked us to write about one shining moment in a Haibun WITH a KIGO AND a SAIJIKI – what the hell are these things?

 

 

180 thoughts on “A Brief, Bright Light

  1. Dear Dale,

    Do Kigos and Saijikis come with standard transmission? Sorry…had to lighten the mood while I dried my tears. Beautifully written. I’ve said it before and will say it again. You are my hero.

    Shalom and lotsa emotional hugs,

    Rochelle

    Liked by 2 people

    • Dear Rochelle,

      So very glad you did! Just so you know, a Kigo is a word or phrase to describe a season and a Saijiki is a pause, represented by a comma, ellipsis, etc. The things I learn…
      And I didn’t want to bring tears but I fear I had to go here as the text preceding the haiku had to be true…

      Shalom and lotsa grateful love,

      Dale

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This was full of heart, my friend. All heart. All love.
    And lovely.
    A really lovely poem, too.
    We don’t ask for what we have to endure, and we often cannot control its happening, but HOW we endure it, and the kind of person it makes us … this is what we can try to control. You are amazing. Hugzees, Na’ama

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I just can’t imagine. Well, I can imagine, but don’t want to. One of the only things I have feared through my life, even as a firefighter, was finding myself in that situation. I don’t know if I could survive it. May Austin’s memory be eternal. Hugs from SC.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It is rather impossible to imagine, Ray. Something we definitely don’t ever try to, that is for sure. I think it must be awful to find a dead or dying child. I can’t even imagine that.
      Thank you. Hugs back from Quebec

      Like

    • Thank you, Björn. I always felt that it is one of those things that life throws your way. Why do some parents lose their children to disease, to war, to whatever. Who am I to be excluded from such? So I am the type who lives in the moment and takes what I can while I have it. Maybe his purpose was to teach me what I was made of.
      I don’t imagine a child would understand such a tragedy so better you didn’t…

      Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Peter. Yes he was – once he was home. At the hospital, he was known as Austin the Terrible! I hesitated to use that picture because of the scar but hell, it was part of him and his joy at being able to sit up was too good to not use.
      I really appreciate your kind words, Peter.

      Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Dawn. No, I never feel it wrong to share stories of him or any of the ones who have left too soon. He was definitely a bright moment. Thank you so much.

      Like

  4. having worked with terminal children I’ve often thought angels are sent to teach us about impermanence! What wondrous memories you have 🙂

    But you are right … it highlighted your love and resilience ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  5. The intimacy of life is the greatest gift. And stays with you forever an ever. Obviously. Tiny flowers with the biggest of blooms. I bow to the Gardner’s, indeed. Thank you for sharing your bounty.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh.. Not my goal! You don’t have to say anything. It’s crazy, He would have been 24 this past May and time flew by so quickly. He was a tiny being who brought so much to so many people in his short life. I guess that was his purpose. Who knows. Life is full of challenges and we don’t know which ones will be handed to us. All we can do is be in the moment and cherish each one. I guess you can surmise I am very much an in the moment, take it all in kinda gal. Good? Maybe. I must surely have my moments 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Dale, I am so glad I met you and you can be sure your Bright Light is still burning within the singular and exceptional person who is you. Words fail me beyond saying that, and this is me, the writer. Much love, Jillyxx

    Liked by 1 person

  7. This was beautiful, my friend! We never know what we have in us or what we are capable of until we are there. There are no medals, no ribbons, no accolades that can ever match!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Dale, this is probably the most beautiful writing I’ve read from you… be it the heartbreaking story, the power of your love and strength, your involvement, the artistry of your words [perfect sequence]… moved and yep… I’ll join that huge group of people who think of you as their hero! 😉
    Huge hug and love.
    xoxoxo
    ps his light is still bright…

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Even though I haven’t met you ‘in the flesh’ (!!!!) nor have I known your little Austin, you DO deserve all praise and medals for surviving that time of his short life and death….. I send you a smile and many loving thoughts, and I’m in tears.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. This was very touching, very moving, Dale. It brought tears to my eyes. I know what it’s like to lose a child but I also know the joy and blessings he brought into our lives for the 11 years he was with us. They will always live on in our hearts and memories. It takes a lot of strength and in my case, faith to deal with the loss of a child. I admire your courage and resilience.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, Adele. I know you know, sadly. Not something I would wish only anyone. Yours is still so recent it must still burn so badly. Austin has been gone for 23 years already, the sting has lessened a lot. Now I am able to smile when I think of him and moments like these challenges, give me a chance to share that.

      Liked by 1 person

  11. Yes, it still hurts. The grief, the pain, the loss hits me at times and I just let the flood gates open. August will be a year since he died. Your Austin was a beautiful child. Perhaps one day in the future, I will be able to share a memory/a moment I shared with my son. Like you, losing a child isn’t something I wish anyone to experience.

    Liked by 1 person

    • And it will hit you in the middle of nowhere in future years. Sometimes it still brings tears. But mostly there is just a soft moment, now.
      I hope you will. For me, writing has been cathartic in losing my loved ones (too many, thank you very much!)

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks, Dale. I find that blogging helps me tremendously although there were times when I believe that I spent too much time that instead of with him. With the tears are the regrets but I try no to dwell on those. I try to dwell on the fun times we had together and I know that he wouldn’t want me to be sad. I know what you mean about losing too many loved ones. Last year was tough for me as I lose my parents and my son within months of each other. Still, life is a gift and so precious.

        Liked by 1 person

        • Don’t do that to yourself, Adele. It serves no purpose whatsoever than to give you unnecessary additional pain. I am positive you were there for him and your parents when it was time. In the day-to-day we live life as we see fit. Choosing to self-flagellate in retrospect won’t bring them back. Forgive yourself so that you can be at peace and know that you did your best.
          Sometimes I swear the Universe tests us more than it should! Sending you much love.

          Liked by 1 person

          • I have prayed about it and the Lord has told me to stop being so hard on myself. He said that the important thing is that I was there for my son. I agree with you that dwelling on or regretting past mistakes serve no purpose and won’t change anything. My son said that I was the best Mom ever and one of the things he loved about me was that I took care of him. Sometimes we focus too much on what we could or should have done. I will forgive myself and move on. It’s what my son would want me to do. And it’s the sensible thing to do. Thanks, Dale 🙂

            Liked by 1 person

          • Good. And, honestly, what better proof can you have but the words directly from your son’s mouth? You need not search further. We lose ourselves in things that don’t matter, probably as we search for the “why” of it all – thing I didn’t do because, when I look at the world, I cannot help but think “why not?” I am no better nor worse than the millions of mothers who have lost one, two, three, all their children to disease, war, etc.
            I am glad you choose to forgive yourself and move FORWARD.

            Liked by 1 person

  12. Looking for words…. I don’t see any in the laundry, in a pile of papers… let me look by the wine bottle!
    Okay, I’m back…no … none by the wine bottle. There is, however, a bit of wine left.
    Cheers to you, dear Thunder! Cheers! xo

    Liked by 1 person

  13. I’m so moved by this I don’t know what to say. Just, thank you for sharing your love and your pain and the peace that you have made with it. It’s amazing to me what the human heart can hold, and somehow keep going.

    Liked by 1 person

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