Goodbye Again

Two weeks ago today, I said good bye again to our oldest daughter. For those of you who have grown up children, you may understand how hard this is. For those of you still sharing your child's early years, hold fast and treasure every moment. 

For me this is tough.

I don't process things easily.

Never have.

Having my older children move out into the world is like having a piece of my heart walking outside my body. It hurts. It makes me sad.

It feels like when I was a child and had carefully constructed a house from the red plastic blocks that came in a long round tube. I placed my tiny, Plasticine constructed family all together and just as I was about to play, I would be called away for dinner, or to do something for my mother. Often, upon returning, sometimes a day later and all ready to play, I found my block house collapsed and the dolls were spread  all over the floor.

Nothing ever stayed perfect. 

Some of you may know that this January I started writing again with Lorna Tureski at the Caetani house. Once a week, our Oak Table group meets, we share our writing and Lorna introduces new ideas and concepts to inspire us for our next week's assignment.

This week we were to write a portrait study of someone; a family member, a friend, an acquaintance. All I could think about was my daughter who had said goodbye two weeks ago. One minute she was here and I was hoping she would remain for a few more months as she completed editing her novel. Then, suddenly life changed, opportunity knocked and she was swept away on the wind of her own life. Her own dreams.

When I think about her childhood, it flew almost as fast as her grown up time back at home.

The following is a capsule of  of our daughter Alyssa and a tiny bit of me, her mom.

                                                             Another Goodbye

After years of piano training, her long capable fingers, deftly folded her clothes into the red suitcase I’d bought her before she’d moved to London. Her golden curls covered her face, but I knew she was pressing her lips together as she often did when she was concentrating. Her body had grown so thin this winter with her strict vegan diet and countless pots of tea, and yet despite her delicacy, I knew a strong woman was emerging from her winter’s cocoon.

It had been almost 27 years since I counted each of her tiny fingers for the first time. During a late term prenatal ultrasound, dilated ventricles in her brain were detected and my doctor arranged to have specialists in Vancouver consult on our case. After my husband and I saw multiple doctors at  Grace Hospital, the paediatric neuro-surgeon recommended labour be induced a month early, in order for immediate surgery be performed so our baby didn't suffer further damage to her brain.

The dark delivery room was full of doctors and nurses with only a bright light shining a pathway for our baby to enter the world. As she made her appearance, a hush fell over the room and only slight movement occurred. Finally, Dr. Farquharson, our OB-GYN, passed a wisp of a baby to the paediatrician who broke the silence and joyfully exclaimed, “she’s a keeper!” As I heard our baby’s cry pierce my fears, I exhaled the breath I had been holding since hearing, “there are congenital abnormalities in your baby’s brain.”

Our daughter whom we named, Alyssa Rae, had a rare congenital brain abnormality. The band of white matter connecting the two hemispheres of her brain, called the corpus callosum was missing.  In March of 1990, there wasn’t much written on this prognosis. After extensive testing and monitoring, four days after delivery we were being released although the neuro surgeon wanted to periodically follow her progress. On discharge Dr. F said, “ take her home and treat her like normal.” Wearing a pink bunny suit, complete with tail and ears, we bundled our 5 pound baby into her new car seat and we slipped out of the hospital, fearing alarms would sound since we felt we had stolen  precious treasure of uncharted worth.

After such a diagnosis, the last thing we were going to do was treat her like normal. Between feedings,  I flew into a flurry reading everything I could regarding stimulating a baby’s brain.  When she was a newborn, I had various stations of physical therapy set up, encouraging her to move her body in different play settings. We did water therapy daily and tummy time, where she was surrounded with bright coloured toys of different textures. Each afternoon, I tucked her into her blue, pin-striped, cotton snugli  and we went out to explore the world. She looked up to me listening aptly as I told her stories of everything on our path, until the rhythm of my stride lulled her into a relaxed state. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier and finally she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

When she was alert, we were swept away, riding in her blue, plushy  rocking chair and together we read baskets full of books. Everything from nursery rhymes, to the classics,like, Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit  and Margaret Wise Brown’s, “Goodnight Moon.” All the while, complex voicing of compositions by Bach, Vivaldi and Teleman, were constantly flowing out of our stereo speakers, in hopes that these Baroque pieces were threading new neuron connections in her brain. As she grew, we registered her in skating, skiing, dancing, swimming, flute and piano lessons to name just a few. 

Her brain must have rewired itself,as there are now studies that indicate children born with an absent corpus callosum often have physical and mental delays. Socially, children with this abnormality appear to have autistic tendencies. Despite all this, Alyssa grew to be a bright child and although we were always waiting for something major to manifest, other than not being brilliant at math, she excelled in school. She became an accomplished pianist completing her grade 10 Royal Conservatory accreditation, she played flute in the school band and in our local youth symphony and she competed and won awards for her Irish dancing. In her late teens she became a lifeguard and although she was never one of those rah, rah, loud and outgoing types,, she quietly made sure everyone was safe on her watch. Socially, she always had friends although she told me later in life, she never found “her people.,”

 When she left home the first time at 18, it was to attend the University of Victoria, where she received her BA in English and her B Ed. The second time I said goodbye, was when she decided to accept a teaching position in London. The summer before she left, she reread a beloved book, Mark Haddon’s book, “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.” It’s a story of a 15 year boy, Christopher, who is gifted with a superbly logical brain and processes everything analytically and without emotion.

The book is refreshing, as it's written from Christopher’s unique perspective. The opening takes us right into the drama when Christopher discovers his neighbours dog is murdered next door. Underneath the investigation of this crime, is the fact that Christopher’s mother had also died when he was young. In his quest for answers to the dog’s killer and to discover more about his mother, he feels compelled to leave home,  a huge feat for one dealing with his autistic challenges and yet he finally takes a train to London to solve the mystery.

Tightly hugging Alyssa at the airport, as she was about to leave for London, I thought about how similar she was in many ways to Christopher. She was never overly emotional growing up. There was no high drama in the teen years, like a few of her diva like friends displayed. She was quiet and thoughtful, as if she was looking at the world from a distance. A gentle soul in many ways, and yet, here she was, going off on a great adventure to the other side of the world where she didn't know a soul. She once told me, "Mom, I want to be the heroine in my own story."

And now, two years later she had returned  after successfully teaching and living in London. She had finally met her people and realized she wasn’t the only quirky, introvert in the world, who loved fantasy and geeky, comic conventions. On her travels through most of Europe, exploring and photographing the historic places she had read about as a child, she had found her place in the world, but it had all taken a toll on her. 

Returning exhilarated but exhausted, her dad and I had encouraged her to take some time off; to write the novel that had been calling to her for years. She had dreamed of another world, full of characters and adventures of their own and we wanted to give her the space to finally tell that story. Our house was busy though, with 6 younger children still at home, it was never a quiet refuge for a writer. By Christmas time, she finally completed her 1^st draft. As we rang in the New Year, I could feel a vibration of discord under the waves of our day to day family life and I knew it was just a matter of time before she left again..

 One Friday afternoon in late January she popped her head in my bedroom door and excitedly said, “Mom, I got an job offer in Victoria and they want me to start on Monday."

Her red suitcases were packed, bedding was stuffed into Rubbermaid boxes and homemaking supplies were all piled at the door. Alyssa picked up and cuddled our Siamese cat, Ryuuki, rubbing her face in his soft fur, drinking in her love of cats, and then she indulged her younger brothers and sisters, who all scrambled around, hugging her waist one more time.

 

When her dad started to take boxes and suitcases out to the car, I swooped in and held her in my arms for a long time, inhaling the clean scent of her hair. Finally knowing eventually I had to let go, I moved away from her and looked into her clear blue eyes and quoted Christopher’s words from the book we both loved,

 ”And I know I can do this because I went to London on my own, and because I solved the mystery….and I was brave and I wrote a book and that means I can do anything.”

She nodded and smiled. Tears started to flood my eyes as I knew that was our final code for goodbye again. Before I knew it, she was settled into the front passenger seat of our compact, red Honda Fit and her Dad was heading up our steep driveway, taking her away.

 I was blowing kisses and waving madly. I raced to the back of our house, hoping to catch one last glimpse. The lake below our house was a still, grey mirror, reflecting the heavy laden clouds above. Suddenly, a shot of red flew down the road below our house and a waving hand could be seen from the window of the car. 

First day teaching at her new school back in Canada

 

"May it Be," my sweet girl.

And to all those who venture away from home, may the light of the evening star shine upon you and guide you on your way....until you are called home once again.

Until we meet again, may you be well, happy and peaceful.

Blessings from Hope