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the flower girl January 8, 2007

Posted by guinever in grief, loss.
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She walked the aisle pulling her brother,
or was he pulling her?
Hand in hand, they raced,
forgetting they were supposed to go slowly down the lacey runner.

A girl of three with long, long hair.
I cried.
Would Abby’s hair be so long now?
Two girls born just weeks apart.
But one’s alive and one is not.
I sobbed.

Oh look! White ribbons in her hair.
Dark, dark hair. Abby’s hair was golden.
I kept sobbing.
“Pull it together,” I thought.

Sweet, sweet flower girl.
Fitted bodice, beads on white satin.
Beautiful Anna.
Todd whispered, “”The ceremony hasn’t even started yet!”
I whispered back, “It’s Anna.”

I prayed. I tried to focus. The bride. . . .
Canon in D. Think of Kristen. The bride, the bride, the bride.
The strings played. The people stood.
The bride appeared.
The bridesmaids–three younger sisters–cried.

I slowed my breathing. I continued to pray.
I wanted to run. I wanted my Abby.
I wanted to hold Mary and touch her curls.
I wanted to hold Anna, to put my arms around anyone–any little girl.

But I stayed and didn’t run away.
Finally still, finally silent,
I clutched my tissues and fingered my handkerchief
as I watched Larry give his little girl away.
And I thought of Abby
never to be a flower girl
never to be given away
never a bride.

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Comments»

1. karla - January 10, 2007

O, Guinever, it is amazing to me that your heart can continue to beat. Does it just break over and over? I’m so amazed by your pursuit of healing and commitment to share with your community. I’m so glad to be a part of it.

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2. Arka - May 17, 2007

I just looked at the little girl. So cute and beautiful.,.!

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3. Amy - June 3, 2007

Guinever, I bounced over here from your other blog. I can never imagine what your days are like missing Abby. Your poem truly moved me. The pictures from the cemetery brought tears to my eyes. I just want you to know that I think of you and Abby, and when I do, I try to hold my own kids closer to me. I pray for God’s blessings to you.

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