Saturday, December 24, 2005

It was 1991

My Year of Magical Thinking.

Until I read Joan Didion's book, I never actually referred to it this way. But that is exactly what it was, that year following my son's death. The year when I waited and watched for him around every corner and conducted myself as though he were going to reappear. Played little penance games with myself on the off chance my behavior might tend to influence the timing of his arrival.

That first Mother's Day, in May of '91. It was just a few weeks after Nathan died. I so strongly felt that he would arrive then. A surprise gift, given quietly without hoopla. I was waiting in the little office off our bedroom (and Nathan's, the rooms were adjoining). I remember wondering when and how he would be presented to me.

Momentary craziness I suppose but it gave me hope.

I was deeply moved by this book. Didion is a beautiful writer and I intentionally slowed my reading to savor her words. I ache for her as I ache for myself. Yet there is no self pity(from either of us for that matter). Or maybe just a little, but it is carefully hidden.

Read this book.

2 comments:

  1. Mary,
    I first heard about this book a few weeks ago on NPR, and knew right away that is was a must read. True to my nature though I promptly forgot about it. Thank you for reminding me and reenforcing my thoughts that it is a book worth reading.
    I have lost loved ones that were so very close to me, I've been in the room with them as they left the earth but, I have never lost a child. The thought terrifies me.
    I can identify with the day that you sat waiting for your son to come back but, of course on a much smaller scale.
    The strength you have and the decision you have made to go on living life is truly an inspiration to me.
    Have a Merry Christmas, niki

    ReplyDelete
  2. just this morning someone in my office mentioned this book to me...it is a sign that i need to read it.

    thanks for the push.

    xox,
    heidi

    ReplyDelete

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