(Written in November 2008)
Woke up with my heart hurting. At first I made it be that I was bad and selfish and stingy that my heart was so cramped. Then I thought perhaps my heart hurt so much because of unhealed wounds from childhood. Then I thought — but I do love, I do care, I care about many things and they are all in trouble, no wonder my heart hurts. Then I got up, made tea, lit a candle. Bella snuggled up next to me. Then I thought about softening around the pain in my heart and that eased something. Then I felt a gush of compassion for my heart, my loving baffled wounded heart. I think of Little Jenny, trying to love a mother who could not receive her love. My heart feels soft and vulnerable, and sore, raw, exposed to the rough edges of the world. I see Little Jenny, with that baffled & sad look on her face, trying to love a mother and grandmother who rebuffed her efforts, and at the same time demanded something from her that she did not know how to give. She didn’t even know what it was, she just felt the pressure, and knew that what she could offer was inadequate. What they wanted was for her to make up to them for the sorrows of their lives, among them a husband gone to war, and a son and brother dead of leukemia. I think Uncle Jess died when I was two. That major event must have impacted me, and from what I know of Mom & Granny they wouldn’t have been able to mourn. They wouldn’t have known how, and there would have been plenty of societal pressure to keep up a brave front. There was a war on, other people were losing sons and brothers. I never thought about the impact of that death on my Grandfather Clark, but it must have been hard for him, his only son, his namesake, dead at 19. Lesser tells a story of a family who lost a son (one of twins) at 21, and how it tore them apart, how they had to do an enormous piece of work around it before they could come back to life. I think in that same time period there were other losses. Mother’s Grandmother Davidson — I think she was the one Mother said she really loved — tho I’m also not at all sure when she died, it might have been much earlier. But during the war years Dad’s mother died, and also Aunt Carolyn’s first husband (who I think died by suicide, but of course that wasn’t talked about either.)
I wish I had the gift for fiction, to write about that time, that family, all those losses. My heart feels totally vulnerable, raw, open to the cold winds of loss and change. I’m feeling such compassion for Mom & Granny, and also for Baby Jenny.