Child Care and Heartbreak

My neighbor and I (we share a duplex) watch other people's kids for some spare cash. I only have one kid besides my own, but my neighbor has a few kids that come regularly. They all play together and we help one another out.


Today, my neighbor (we'll call her Donna) also had two more kids than usual, as a favor to a longtime friend. Her friend's son is 5  (let's call him Thor), the daughter is 3 (let's call her Ramona). They just recently had a family tragedy of the worst kind and she needed friends to watch her kids while she dealt with the details of putting her life back to together.


You see, her other son (we'll call him Jacob), a 14 year old, just died. He was spending the night at a friend's house and the grandparents (his friend lived with his grandparents) had a loaded gun. The boys found it and were playing around and to put a long story short, her son was killed by his best friend. Everyone in this situation is shocked and horrified.


While some people will vilify the grandparents (and yes, it is not OK that there was a loaded gun in kids' reach, I agree with that), it's not like they wanted this to happen. And the child that was playing with his grandparent's gun has now shot and killed his best friend and will have to live with that the rest of his life. I cannot imagine the guilt, fear, and horror that involves.


And Jacob's mom. I just keep thinking of her and feeling her pain and anguish. If I lost Rowan like that, I would seriously flip the fuck out (pardon the language, but I am intensely feeling this today). Seriously. I don't know if I could do what she has been doing- which is supporting the grieving friend (telling him she forgives him) and going down to the state capital building to work for gun control. I suppose this is how she is dealing with her grief. I don't honestly know what  would do- I cannot imagine the hole that would be left if Rowan were suddenly gone forever, especially if his last moments were ones of agony and fear.


So my neighbor and I did our damndest to be cheerful and fun for these kids whose everyday existence right now is confusion and grief. I brought out play dough for everyone. I gave some to Thor and said hi and he looked up at me with the most morose eyes I have seen in a child his age and the first thing he said was, "Jacob is dead." My heart fell into my shoes and I welled up with tears. "I know," I said. "I am so sorry." What do you say to a kid when he says that? What does he want to hear, if anything?


Then his sister kept getting the situation confused. "Jacob shot me." "No, Jacob shot himself." "No, Jacob was shot." I took a deep breath and watched while her older brother corrected her so she got her story right. "He was in the hospital, but now he's dead."


"Yes, honey." I said. "That's true and very sad." Jocob's mom texted Donna and told her that she was so grateful to have the kids playing with other kids and out of the house, which is so sad and overwhelming right now. "They deserve a normal day." she said.


I am glad to say that they did play. We took them to the park, fed them mac and cheese, and let them be rambunctious kids. I hope it helped.

It feels really real now.

An old map of Oakland.

I am writing this the Monday before I pack my son, my birds, and some personal affects into our car and start our journey eastward, to our new home in Ohio. This weekend really hammered home that I may be seeing certain people and things for the last time, and I am in a state of awe and grief. The SF Bay Area, SF and mostly Oakland, has been my home for the last 18 years. I have created relationships, art, institutions, and projects here. It has felt like home since I first visited and now I leave for a place that I have never seen.

Saturday was a gauntlet of personal visits. We visited other initiates of our Witchcraft tradition to say goodbye and were bestowed with gifts. One gift in particular tugged at my heart: When I was pregnant with Rowan, I had some medical complications. My magickal community pulled together and helped me rectify these so that I was able to have a normal vaginal birth. Some made charms for me, others did rituals where they were in the world, still others collaborated on a quilt. Several initiates made quilt squares- they drew in permanent marker on cloth squares the most amazing images for him. And I finally picked them up on Saturday. I am excited to make Rowan this quilt- a lasting and fitting magickal legacy for such a fey child. I will be combining it with a quilt square that I got after Cora Anderson's death- one of the squares she always intended to incorporate into a larger project. Now it will be.

The geese at Lake Merritt.

I also visited a former Craft teacher on Saturday. She is mostly house-bound these days and we chatted about my initiation, my travels, my son, and general small talk. She loves children and is a former Montessori teacher, so she was delighted that Rowan was along for the visit. I am glad he got to spend some more time with her before we leave.

Sunday, we started the day by attending services at our church, First Unitarian Church of Oakland. We got to say goodbye to Dorothy, who staffs the nursery (Rowan just loves her, and I spent some time volunteering there as well, so we caught up since I was teaching Sunday School over the summer and didn't make it to FUCO). I got to say goodbye to a few more seminarians, my ministers, and the director of children programs and religious education (whom I volunteered for last semester). I dropped off some crafting supplies and turned in my key to the church. My keychain is becoming lighter and lighter these days. The service was amazing- a commemoration of 9/11 that managed to be uplifting, angry, and inspiring- all at the same time. I wept. The message that "friction causes growth" was a timely one for my family.

After, we jetted off to SF to drop Rowan off at his best friend's house for a day of play while his parents ran errands and visited some more. We then visited my Witch Mama (the Witch who took my oath) and Witch Sister (a sibling in regards to the fact that my Witch Mama also took her oath). We chatted away and laughed until dinner, and then ate the delicious coq au vin and watermelon salad that they had made for us. When it came time to say goodbye, I could not help it. I started to cry. "Don't forget us", said my witch Sister (as if I ever could!). I managed to hold it mostly together until we got out onto the front porch. There, my Witch Mama sang me a farewell song under the full moon. Gods, I am going to miss her. I am crying even now as I type.

Today (Monday) we are running ourselves ragged trying to accomplish everything- a DMV visit, renting a car while ours gets seen by the mechanics, the last bits of packing and purging. Tomorrow, we are having our last hurrah with our friends (whom will join us in Columbus next year and we will make a home together) at Stinson Beach. Then Wednesday the movers come to take away all our stuff, and we leave Thursday AM. A whirlwind, and I am sure it will pass in the blink of an eye.

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it." -Helen Keller

 Today is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day in the United States, setting the day aside to note the loss that is so hard for many to talk about. While I have never had a miscarriage or lost a small child (and never will, Gods willing), as a mother I can grasp a small fraction of the despair that women (and their families) feel when this tragedy happens.

From the official date's website, called Remembering Our Babies:

Remembering Our Babies was created to provide support, education and awareness for those who are suffering or may know someone who has suffered a miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy, a still birth, or the loss of an infant. We hope that we can help you by giving you and all of the other parents, grandparents, siblings, relatives, and friends a special day of remembrance. This special day of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance is October 15th of every year.

Given that this situation happens in almost 16% of pregnancies in the US, you may know someone affected, whether they have shared this information with the public (or friends and family) or not. It is often a silent suffering.

Here is a letter from my friend, Jeanne Bowyer, to her lost firstborn, Josie:

"I loved holding you in my arms. You nestled there for hours, we cuddled together... They tried to bring you back to life - back to us - but they couldn't. Oh, I've wished so many times since then that it had been otherwise. You were worth every second I carried you. I will love you forever - just as much as your little sister Bella. This is for all the other mamas who've lost children - they are every bit - EVERY bit as precious as their living babies. I love you so very much, Josie."

That person at work or sitting next to you on the bus that is acting tired, depressed, angry, or sad may have something that they are not sharing with you- but their mood is affecting them and those around them. I urge people to be gentle with one another, especially if someone around you is acting "irrational". We do not know what another goes through and struggles with most of the time. Grief is a profound experience, one that needs empathy and space to move.

"We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival."
-Winston Churchill