Little Liam: Fly High.
"Mama, why are you crying"
I take her naked body in close and whiff a bit of her stinky head of hair, matted and wild.
"Remember the twins I told you about? The babies that came out of their mama’s belly very early? Well, Liam," I point to his picture on what seems to be this totally impersonal screen but in reality turns out to be an energetic network of support and love and friendship and knowledge in this big small world of ours. "Liam, right here, this sweet little baby boy went back to the Source this morning. He was not ready to live on Mama Earth just yet."
"He died."
"Yes, baby he died. But I am not crying for him. He is happy. So happy and at peace and living in light. I am crying for his mama and dada, because I know they will miss him so. It’s not sad to die, it’s sad for the people who love and will miss him."
"Okay, mama."
Later that day I pull up the screen of a mother’s words who just lost her son so I can them to read to my husband. Every other day he asks about the twins and how they are doing. As Bill reads, Mia crawls back on my lap and looks me in the eyes.
"Baby Liam is happy now because he does not have to have those wires on his mouth, mama. He didn’t like those. He lives with the sky and father sun. He is laughing. But his mama misses him. Yeah, he’s happy." She climbs down and practiced skipping down the hallway singing, "He’s happy, happy, happy. He’s happy."
And like birth, death is the exhale at the end of the inhale and the inhale at the end of the exhale and the space where we just float in between.
Little Liam Stewart I am assuming that you know all this because now you are all-knowing, but let me say that you have taught me so much in your just- over- a -month time here on Earth. I have never met you, but you spoke through your mother, in ways more poetic then the ocean or the peaks of the most impressive mounts. You spoke through your mother like a voice withing a wise cocoon, and you shared with me how to let go and metemorphose, crawl out of my scared skin and face the fears that loom at the heart of every mother, parent: loss. Your mother’s courage and wisdoms and peace and eloquence stiched every inch of my life every day that she wrote of your journey, and I through it I found a bit of hope in the center of moments that passed by me with difficulty and pain. I am a better person because you were born, too early for this Earth perhaps, but your soul is old, magic and wise like an owl, and your presence is evermore. Your presence is evermore. Always.
Fly high, Liam. Shine on us all. We love and need your guidance here.
Peace.
Peace.
Peace.
Isn’t it interesting how this little baby boy has touched so many? I was reading the journey after following Jeanette’s link. I felt so much for this family of this child. Thinking about the loss of potential and remembering when I had to mourn the loss of Brennan’s “normal” childhood. I envied Kate’s ability to write about what she was living because I remember feeling like there was no way that I could. I could put out an email here and there, but I didn’t think I could ever express the feelings of it all. Kate did it for a lot of parents of children in PICUs and NICUs.
I hope that if Liam isn’t too busy with his own family he has a chance to shine his star in our directions as well.
Comment by Karen — June 17, 2007 @ 11:56 pm
A perfectly fitting tribute to the high-flying LIam. He courses through all of us, each in different ways.
And Mia…that energy/wisdom child, who intuits so much from this Earth and from other-worldly places. I hear the unspoken words and the vibrations between the words she speaks. There is so much more…
Comment by Leigh — June 18, 2007 @ 3:52 am
What a lovely conversation between you and your child…I just found this post from Kate’s link, and I’m glad for it.
Comment by Yvette — June 18, 2007 @ 9:45 pm
oh mb,
thank-you for this loving tribute, such a tender honoring of this little being that was here these weeks and for the courageous heart of his mother. I have been opened up raw by their story and it was its own kind of healing to take in your words and those of Mia. May we all continue to hold the space for this family, as they go to those places only they can enter.
Isabel
Comment by writermommy — June 19, 2007 @ 12:12 am
i can’t even comment about this on katie’s site as i just get too overwhelmed with emotions. thanks for posting this, as i wouldn’t have known about it. it’s very lovely.
Comment by sarah jane rhee — June 21, 2007 @ 6:59 pm