Stella’s 4th birthday is this week. In the lead up, I think it’s the first time I’ve really missed excess since sheltering-in started. I want to make her feel obscenely celebrated. I want streamers blowing in the breeze and little birthday hats perched atop giant toddler heads. I want chaos and beautifully-wrapped birthday packages torn to shreds. I want a thousand kids running around our courtyard, tackling one another for crappy pinata candy, faces covered in chocolate cake.
This wrecked me, in the best way. There's something about the place where the joy meets the grief. Something about creating a space where they don't cancel each other out, but form an overtone. I feel like I could spend the rest of my day (or life) trying to name that overtone.
My father's last words were, "I feel depleted." There must be something closer to death about this quarantine experience than we realize in the everyday as we slog through. Thanks for this, Courtney. So well written -- and tender in a way that we need it most.
“The moments that are happening in these, our pandemic-time lives, aren’t re-livable. And that made me sad at depths that surprised me. “.....Truest words that hurt all the way to my soul. I ached for the graduation classes, kindergarten through college in June, I ache for the wonderful family times that people are missing, the togetherness and spontaneous joy, I now ache for my grandchildren who worked hard to get into the middle school of their choosing, and are disappointed not to be able to experience the transition to that place of banging lockers, throngs of people moving from one class to another, the thrill of learning in a classroom, side by side with their peers (I wonder how the kids will pass notes back and forth surreptitiously?.. one of the joys of school... not getting caught). Your comments today allowed me to feel the pain of what is missed. .... I need to remember that, despite masks and separation and Covid and the cocoon of safety that I have created around my “family”, that there are people out there protesting for the betterment of our country, and I thank those that are objecting to the horrors that have been perpetrated by “unconscious” people living their lives in what I can only believe is selfishness.
What a gift you are and your words are - filled with heart and bittersweet goodness! And the image of Stella put me into another orbit...and I am having a hard time getting my feet back on the ground!
Bee-yoo-tiful. My child is grown and lives 500 miles away, but she and I finally got together for the first time since December. In our hours of conversation, we talked much about what it would be like to be a child right now. What we deeply want for our children could fill a bookshelf. What they need most of all is to be loved, to be heard, to be seen. It sounds like Stella had a lovely birthday.
I've been thinking about grief recently, too, and navigating my own pandemic losses. Some are new and some happened a while ago but are just settling in. You're right, acknowledging and allowing the sadness feels like the only way through. And walking. Lots of walking. For what it's worth, I think if more neighbors had dance parties together, the world would be a much happier and more compassionate place.
Courtney, your writing helps me out together the pieces of my thoughts that I hadn’t yet realized could be coherent. Thank you.
I’m sorry for your losses and for the pain and for the sadness. Maya and Stella are so blessed to have such a conscious mother. And I feel blessed to know your writing. Your words make the little losses just a little bit less severe.
This wrecked me, in the best way. There's something about the place where the joy meets the grief. Something about creating a space where they don't cancel each other out, but form an overtone. I feel like I could spend the rest of my day (or life) trying to name that overtone.
Was so honored to share this birthday with the luminous Stella, and to share the big and little griefs with her mom and the community she moves in
My father's last words were, "I feel depleted." There must be something closer to death about this quarantine experience than we realize in the everyday as we slog through. Thanks for this, Courtney. So well written -- and tender in a way that we need it most.
“The moments that are happening in these, our pandemic-time lives, aren’t re-livable. And that made me sad at depths that surprised me. “.....Truest words that hurt all the way to my soul. I ached for the graduation classes, kindergarten through college in June, I ache for the wonderful family times that people are missing, the togetherness and spontaneous joy, I now ache for my grandchildren who worked hard to get into the middle school of their choosing, and are disappointed not to be able to experience the transition to that place of banging lockers, throngs of people moving from one class to another, the thrill of learning in a classroom, side by side with their peers (I wonder how the kids will pass notes back and forth surreptitiously?.. one of the joys of school... not getting caught). Your comments today allowed me to feel the pain of what is missed. .... I need to remember that, despite masks and separation and Covid and the cocoon of safety that I have created around my “family”, that there are people out there protesting for the betterment of our country, and I thank those that are objecting to the horrors that have been perpetrated by “unconscious” people living their lives in what I can only believe is selfishness.
Yes to all of this. And the world needs to know that you threw a great friggin birthday party :)
What a gift you are and your words are - filled with heart and bittersweet goodness! And the image of Stella put me into another orbit...and I am having a hard time getting my feet back on the ground!
Bee-yoo-tiful. My child is grown and lives 500 miles away, but she and I finally got together for the first time since December. In our hours of conversation, we talked much about what it would be like to be a child right now. What we deeply want for our children could fill a bookshelf. What they need most of all is to be loved, to be heard, to be seen. It sounds like Stella had a lovely birthday.
Yes, and thank you.
Thank you
I can’t even
I've been thinking about grief recently, too, and navigating my own pandemic losses. Some are new and some happened a while ago but are just settling in. You're right, acknowledging and allowing the sadness feels like the only way through. And walking. Lots of walking. For what it's worth, I think if more neighbors had dance parties together, the world would be a much happier and more compassionate place.
Life. Beautiful. Thank you.
The little grief...oh my, yes. Thank you for putting it into words. It really helps.
Courtney, your writing helps me out together the pieces of my thoughts that I hadn’t yet realized could be coherent. Thank you.
I’m sorry for your losses and for the pain and for the sadness. Maya and Stella are so blessed to have such a conscious mother. And I feel blessed to know your writing. Your words make the little losses just a little bit less severe.