Evidently, this photography project is not as easy as I thought. It involves looking for images in unique locations, and I have not yet found all of my images. So...another week without the last installment. I'm working on it! Meanwhile, yesterday's post got me thinking more about my honeymoon and how much fun it was. So much fun, in fact, I wanted to share it with you. So, I made a video on my Ipad with photos from our week in Kauai and I set it to the same song by Dave Matthews. Mike and I watched it together before I uploaded it and smiled. That was a wonderful week. A week full of newness and adventure. A week when our lives were simple and carefree. Sometimes, we all need to take a moment to think about what makes us happy in this life. We all need to take a moment to remember the good times we've had - because at the end of the day, that's really all there is. Memories. Here's one of mine.
The more time that passes, the more I want to get out of this life. (Don't panic - not like that) At first, when everything was turned so upside down, I clung to things that were familiar. My friends. My family. My house. People asked me if I was going to go back to work at the same school, and I said "of course." Because to make things so different on purpose seemed insane to me. Why would I create even more turmoil for myself?
I hear stories of couples who break clean away from their old lives after losing a child. They move to a new city. They get new jobs. They embrace change out of necessity. Not because they are running away, but because they are running towards something else - something better, something lighter. Sometimes, the past is too painful to hold on to, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes, you need a fresh start. I get that now. If I had the financial means to do so right now, that is exactly what I would do. I would move. Far, far away.
When Mike and I were on our honeymoon in Kauai, we took a day trip from Lihue up to the north coast. On the way there, we stopped for breakfast at a coffee shop in Kapa'a. Just across the street from the pacific ocean, the shop was a small wooden building painted sunshine yellow. The original structure had been added on to over the years, making it look a little like someone was playing dominoes with box cars. Inside, local artists proudly displayed their work. Canvases thick with paint and inspiration covered the indigo walls. The barista was a woman probably in her late twenties, who's tank top was covered in coffee stains and who's arms were covered in tattoos. The breakfast crowd obviously consisted of regulars, as they chatted with each other and the employees with ease and familiarity. The atmosphere was both electric and mellow. As we ate our breakfast, surrounded by art and ocean air, I thought about what would happen if we just didn't come home. What if we just stayed in Kauai? I could work at this coffee shop. I could paint some art for the walls. We'd get a tiny bungalow on the beach with gray, wooden floor boards as wide as my open palm. We'd sleep with the windows open and the sounds of the waves pushing onto the shore. Our kids would be water babies, able to swim before they could walk. In those twenty minutes at the coffee shop, I imagined a whole new life for us. I pictured myself pregnant and swollen, wrapped in a sarong, walking barefoot on the beach. In those twenty minutes at the coffee shop, I was ready to trade my life here to become a Hawaiian hippie.
Now, I realize that was just the idealistic dreams of a newlywed. My life with Mike had officially begun, and I wanted to conjure up the best one possible. Realistically, I knew that would never happen. I knew our time in Hawaii would have to end. But, it was okay because we had our own pretty great life to come back to. We had plans. We had a future.
And then life sucker punched me in the gut - quite literally. Just like that, the plans I made were gone. The future I had envisioned disappeared in a flash. And sometimes, I feel like there is nothing left for me here. Everything is a constant reminder of what is missing. Everything. From the friend who was going to take Kenley to the zoo to the baby thrift shop I was planning to frequent. I am surrounded by a life I can't have while being crushed by a life I don't want.
I want to start over. I don't want to be the mother of a dead daughter. I don't want a life where I have to search for meaning everywhere just to keep myself from falling a part. I want to grab Mike's hand and a suitcase - and just disappear. I want to make art and coffee in Kapa'a. And I want to look at the night sky with wonder and joy once again.
For some reason, some people will not bring up Kenley in conversation. They will go to great lengths to steer the conversation away from her. It has been almost five months since her death, and since I have not been a hermit, I have interacted with many people. I have bumped into several people I know in the grocery store or at the mall, and most (though not all) conversations consist basically of an exchange of pleasantries, a well-meaning conversation about anything but Kenley, and then a "hey, you take care!" And I always walk away with the realization that I just made someone very uncomfortable - just by running into them. None of these people are rude or insensitive. None of them mean any harm. In fact, I am sure all of them have my best interest at heart. They don't want to bring up painful memories or talk about things that could possibly upset me. I can understand that. Here's the thing, though. I am already upset. I am already sad and angry and feeling terrible. Even if I am smiling or laughing or joking around, underneath, I am still upset. You will not bring up anything that will make me more upset. You will not make me suddenly remember what happened - I didn't forget. You will not stir up old feelings or open up old wounds. Feelings of loss do not age and wounds do not heal. There is only one thing you can do that will make me feel worse - and that is to not acknowledge my daughter - to brush past the fact that I am a mother, that I was pregnant, that this happened. To ignore my loss - that is what will make me upset. I want to talk about her. I want to talk about being pregnant. I want to talk about how beautiful she was and about how much I miss her. I want to talk about how I am healing and what I am doing to make my life meaningful again. And I want you to listen - without pity. I am not talking about her for sympathy. I am talking about her because she is important to me. I am talking about her because she changed my life, and I need to tell you how. And then, I want YOU to say her name. I want you to recognize her as a person. A person with an identity. She was alive. For 36 weeks, she was alive. She had a personality - even if I was the only one who got to experience it. It was there. SHE was there. It is okay to talk about her. It is okay to talk about the fact that she was alive and now she is dead. It is okay to talk about my feelings and your feelings regarding that fact. Above all things, it is okay to say her name. Kenley. Kenley Evelyn Wood. She is my daughter. She has a name. Every time I hear it, my heart does not break - it glows. It heals. It uncoils a little from its spiral of pain. Kenley Evelyn Wood. Say her name.
I scheduled posts through yesterday because I figured, surely I'll have some time before Friday to get something written. I am exhausted. Mentally and physically. I have been running all over this nation for the last month and I need a nap. While I have had a wonderful time seeing friends and family, I also have been very painfully aware that none of these trips should have occurred. Instead of traipsing through Seattle, I should have been nursing my baby. Instead of taking a ghost tour in New Orleans, I should have been changing her diapers. And, instead of eating delicious lobster with my sister in Boston, I should have been rocking Kenley to sleep. It is so hard to reconcile the life I am leading with the life I should have had. How can I enjoy anything when it comes to me so tainted? I am tired of feeling I have to justify my actions to myself. I am tired of living a life that shouldn't be mine - yet so cruelly is. I'll get there. I am sure one day, way down this twisting path, there is a point where the life that has been forced upon me is the one I finally have made my own. But, not yet. Not today. I still wake up every day with a feeling in my gut that this is not supposed to be the way it is. I still feel empty and incomplete. My eyes focus on a world where I don't belong - and I ache everyday to return to the one where I do. This is not my life.
If you have not seen Monty Python's Spamalot on Broadway (or off), you are truly missing out. It is a hilarious show. I first saw this musical in NYC with my sister a few years ago and laughed so hard I cried. I saw it a second time when it passed through Melbourne when Mike and I first started dating. Again, it did not disappoint. In this song, the Lady of the Lake is singing to King Arthur and his men in their quest to find the Holy Grail. From the first time I saw the musical, this song made me think of finding your passion in life. No matter what you do with yourself, find what makes you happy and do it. That's your grail. For theatrical and comedic purposes, she gets very showboaty while she sings. Enjoy.
It may come as a huge surprise to you all, but I was extremely picky when it came to dating. (shock and awe, right?) I had absolutely no intention whatsoever to settle for someone who didn't make my heart completely soar. If a guy didn't meet my expectations, I didn't give them the time of day. I had better things to do with my time. Like have a completely fantastic time with my friends and mold myself into the person I am today. I wasn't about to let a guy tell me who I was. I was the type of girl a guy had to work for - and not many were willing to put in the effort. So, as a result, I was basically single until I was thirty. I don't regret one second either. Not just because I met Mike and he is the right guy for me - but because I think that every girl needs to take the time to find out who she is and what she wants without the distraction of what boys think about her. There is a phrase in this song that says "Like an apple on the tree, hiding out behind the leaves, I was difficult to reach, but you picked me." I am no picnic. I am independent and opinionated and I very rarely do something if I don't want to do it. But, I am worth it.
This song was in the running for what I would walk down the aisle to at my wedding, but it was a little too fast and a little too alternative for what I wanted. So, it was shelved. But, I still love it because it makes me think of the effort Mike put in to get me, the catch that both of us are, and how we are meant to be together in this life. We picked each other.
So, in the 90's, I wore converse shoes and combat boots and I classified myself as an "Alternative Music" listener. This included The Foo Fighters, Beck, Alanis Morrisette, Matchbox 20, and many others. The Goo-Goo Dolls' Iris was my absolute favorite song from 1998. This could be because of the movie City of Angels, which had the most unfair ending of all time, but still stirred the sinews of my cold, angst-ridden heart. The song speaks of love and loss - and yearning. Of wanting something you can't have and of being misunderstood. In 1998, this embodied everything I was - or thought I was. I loved it. I also loved the floppy haired broodiness of John Rzeznik. (who, sadly, did not age well)
Today, I still love this song. It makes me think of a time when I was young and still had so many years ahead of me before my world would come crashing down. And it makes me think of my little girl, who is the "closest to heaven I'll ever be."
Today, I was looking at updates from Return to Zero and I saw someone posted a picture in memory of their child with a verse from "You Are My Sunshine". The line that says "The other night dear, when I was sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I woke dear, I was mistaken. So, I hung my head and I cried." And I lost it. Fell to my knees and cried. Seriously and completely fell apart. It was not pretty. You can imagine why. However, an underlying reason was that I sang that song, at least the first verse, to Kenley every day in the shower while I was pregnant. Every single day. It just made me happy, soaping up my belly and belting it out to my little girl. Mike liked to try to sneak in with his iphone and record me in all of my off-key glory because he thought it was hilarious. So, this song reminds me of a joyful and innocent time. But now, it is as if that second verse has been added to my life now. And the song means something completely different. It is a song of what I have lost. After pulling myself together this afternoon, I pulled out my ipad. I downloaded a pretty version of this song and I coordinated it with some photos to create a movie. I used photos from the beginning of the pregnancy all the way through to last week. Throughout the entire process of creating it, I cried. It actually felt wonderful to do so. A cleansing of sorts, I suppose. And now, I am sharing it with you. Fair Warning: You will likely also cry.
This is a relatively new song on my playlist. I heard it for the first time about two weeks ago, and I instantly loved it. It's uptempo and has a positive beat and melody. It's fairly impossible to listen to this song without moving some part of your body to the rhythm. (Try it) There's really no mystery about the meaning of the lyrics. She has a man who stands by her no matter what - and she is confident in that fact. Of all the unsavory things he could be doing - he isn't doing any of them. He is right there next to her. The verse that really hits home for me is this one:
When the skies are grey and all the doors are closing
And the rising pressure makes it hard to breathe
When all I need's a hand to stop the tears from falling
I will find him, I’ll find him next to me
Kenley's death is a closed door for me. And sometimes, I really could liken this time to standing in a dark hallway - anxious and alone and wondering why all of this happened. Paralyzed with grief. But, with Mike next to me, I can do this. I can get through this because he is here with me - and I am secure in the knowledge that he always will be. He is my oxygen in this void. With him next to me, I can do anything. Even survive the death of our daughter.
So, the first time I heard this song, I had recently written this post. Two minutes ago, I watched the video on YouTube for the first time so I could link the song here and then write about why it means something to me. After watching the video, there's nothing else I need to say. I already said it. Read the post I wrote two months ago. Watch the video I found two minutes ago. (Watch it all the way through) Try not to be blown away.
One of my friends posted this song to my wall when we first lost Kenley to let me know I wasn't alone. Of course, she posted the Glee version because she's weird like that, but I know she meant well. (Oh, I have nothing against Glee...it's just my natural instinct to hate things that are popular. I've been that way since New Kids on the Block and slap bracelets.) I had never heard this song before, and when I listened to it, I cried. Big, fat, salty tears. It meant so much to me that my friend, who had no idea what I could possibly have been feeling, wanted me to know that she was here for me. She knew she couldn't do anything to make it better. She knew she couldn't change anything. She couldn't fix anything. There was nothing to say other than "I'm here for you." This song says that. It reminds me that I have people surrounding me who love me and care for me - no matter how bad it gets. Even though they don't understand what it's like, they are still here by my side. That's all any of us want, really. We don't need fancy words or grand gestures. We just want someone to say "Hey. I have nothing for you except my friendship - so here it is." And that's enough.
I admit it. I love Kelly Clarkson. I have loved her since the very beginning. She's just on this side of Bubblegum pop, so it's still okay. There are actually a few of her songs on my playlist for many different reasons. Originally, this song was on my Ipod from last spring when I was trying out jogging. My mother and sister had just finished the Princess Half Marathon at Disney and had convinced me that running was fun and I should totally start training to run a marathon with them! I wasn't convinced, but they bought me fun workout clothes and new running shoes. I started out with the Couch to 5K app, which let me add songs to a running playlist. I actually researched songs that had an appropriate beat per minute that would set a pace I could keep. Stronger not only had a good beat, but also a good message. "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger." As a runner, that's an inspiring message. As your feet hit the pavement and your heart beats in your chest, you are exhausted, but you imagine yourself growing stronger with each step. Today, that message still rings true. Every beat of my heart takes so much more effort than it used to. Everything takes so much more effort than it used to, but I am not dead. And I will push through the pain. And I will come out of the other side...stronger. This song is a song of determination - of the refusal to let the other side win. It is a song that makes you punch the air in the shower. (Not that I have ever done that) Now, I didn't run for very long. I ran several times a week from March to June of last year. Then, I got pregnant and used that as an excuse to stop. I'm not a runner, and that's ok. But while I was running, this song pushed me forward. It still does.
No, not the one sung by Judy Garland, although that one is nice too. This is the Somewhere Over the Rainbow sung by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, a Hawaiian singer who does magical things with a Ukulele. This song is relaxing and soothing and it reminds me of the early stages of dating Mike. Somehow, we discovered this song together and listened to it often. It makes me think of a simpler time. A time when we would take a spur of the moment trip to St. Augustine just because we could. A time when our greatest problem was wondering whether or not the milk should be used today or if we could stretch it till Thursday. And, obviously, it reminds me of our honeymoon, which was, despite how cliche it sounds, the best time of my life. The video I pulled from Youtube really shows the natural beauty of the island. If you haven't been, start saving your money now. Some people say Hawaii is over rated. I think those people need to get over themselves. Those are probably the same people who dissect the plot of romantic comedies or sci-fi movies in order to find unrealistic events or characters. Or who will rattle off the calorie count of the delicious meal you are enjoying just to prove their point that restaurant portions are too big. Shut up and enjoy yourself, geez! Sometimes, you just need to take a breath, close your eyes, and recognize your life for what it is. This moment - right now. That's what this song does for me. It gives me a moment of peace and joy, and that is exactly what I need.
This song played while Mike and I walked down the aisle after we were married. It's a happy, bouncy song full of light and joy, which is exactly what I wanted at my wedding, especially the first celebratory walk as husband and wife. We gleefully strode down that aisle hand in hand. The chorus of the song goes "Oh, this is how it starts, lightning strikes the heart, it goes off like a gun. Brighter than the sun. Oh we can be the stars, falling from the sky, shining how we want. Brighter than the sun." To me, this is what our love was like. We knew right away that we were the one for each other. We both fell fast and hard - and have been falling ever since. Our love is bright and shiny and is - now - lighting the way in this darkness. This song is on my playlist because it reminds me of the happiest day of my life and of the joy I felt in marrying my best friend and true love. It makes me dance and smile - two things that are not as prevalent as they used to be.
Since I am on vacation, I thought I'd do a series of "Kenley's Playlist" posts. Over the last few months, I have formed an itunes playlist of songs that have come to mean something to me for one reason or another. Maybe it cheered me up. Maybe its lyrics touched my heart. Maybe it made me feel stronger or less alone. Maybe it made me cry. For whatever reason it touched me, I added it to my playlist. I listen to this playlist in the car, in the shower, while cleaning the house - wherever I want music. When I listen to these songs, I feel connected to Kenley. Here's the first one:
Across the Universe
Although the Beatles' original can't be beat, the one that is on my playlist is from the Across the Universe soundtrack. I like the instrumental opening on this one. I have had this song on itunes since the movie came out in 2007, and I have always loved it for its flowing melody and beautiful lyrics. I played it at Kenley's memorial service when I released her balloons.
"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup. They slither while they pass. They slip across the universe." To me, these words symbolized Kenley's independent spirit and the words I chose to remember her by. Those words I spoke at her memorial flowed out of me and into the universe. Like her balloon, those words rose into the sky and carried her home.
"Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy are drifting through my open mind. Possessing and caressing me." As much as I was devastated to not have my baby in my arms, I was filled with the joy of my love for her. It was a paradox that wouldn't - and still hasn't - let go of me.
"Nothing's gonna change my world" These words remind me to hold on to who I am, in spite of what has happened. I will not let this make me bitter...I will let it make me better.
I could analyze every bit of this song to tell you how meaningful it is to me, but I won't. Some of that is mine - and you can't have it. For the rest of my life, this song will remind me of that cold, winter's day in early March. The day I said goodbye to my baby girl. The day her pink balloon broke away from the pack and the day her life broke away from this earth. As long as I'm living, my baby she'll be.
