Where Hummingbirds Lose Their Magic
I issued an edict last summer. If the vertical living rooms blinds are to be opened, they can never be drawn. I dubbed the main floor living room as my “reading room”. Abbey and I spent hours in there both reading and writing. Last summer when I found myself reading or writing in there, I would often hear a small “thunk”, and then run outside just as fast I could. I inevitably would find a jewel colored hummingbird lying amidst the dirt and pine needles, for all intent and purposes, dead. I would gently pick up the humming bird, and begin stroking its limp body. The kids would always gather around me and lament his condition and then ever so slowly, the rise and fall of its breast would become more apparent. I would continue to stroke the bird until it became more animated. When the bird was then able to stand on its own, I would take it to the backyard and set it on the roof of the pool house, always looking for a spot out of direct sunlight. Suddenly, the bird would float off into the air and back into space that is familiar. It was magic.
I soon found myself checking the front window even when I didn’t hear a “thunk”. I had become paranoid that one of those beautiful hummingbirds would hit my window and that I wouldn’t be there to rehabilitate it and send it back into its familiar space. One day to my horror, that fear was realized. I found a beautiful amethyst breasted hummingbird without a head. No amount of stroking or love would ever again help that bird to take flight and make the world just a little more beautiful.
I can’t help but to think of those birds when I think of my Abigail. It seems that since the moment she was born, I directed all my attention to putting her in a cocoon to protect her from the world. I issued edicts for blinds to never be fully opened all throughout her life. The girl was afraid to walk two houses down the street at the age of nine! I never in a million years dreamed that I would have to protect her from herself. All of the visible blinds in the world did not keep my daughter from taking her own life. I now wonder if the magic of those hummingbirds somehow grayed the finality of life and death in her mind. Did she think that I would be there to stroke her beautiful face and bring her back into familiar space? This haunts me. It will always haunt me
It would haunt me too…
Still…
(((HUGGS)))
I kept thinking about what you wrote, so I came back. You write beautifully, BTW.
When my son died and we found out it was from an inherited trait, my mother immediately blamed herself. Turns out I inherited OTC from my dad, not from her. Still, mothers have a habit of protecting their children more than dads do, so they tend to feel more guilty if something goes wrong.
The truth is, you couldn’t protect her from everything no matter how much you wanted to. She made a decision. A really bad decision. I bet if there was a way to undo it, that she would.
I keep reading and re-reading and re-reading this. It’s a sad, beautiful magic all on it’s own.
I have never known a better writer, you are a treasure. Even after having burried a daughter in 2001 I dont have anything useful to say in such a time. I offer the quiet peace of my thoughts and love for you all as you make you way forward.
I was thinking of you today. And I came here and read this.
Those hummingbirds are lucky to have you. So are your kids.
Hoping you find solace in writing. It’s magical.
I came here multiple times and read this, but didnt know what to say.. Heartbreaking! *hug*
Please keep writing.
I had a friend who committed suicide in 2007. The newspapers, and his place of employment, where he was highly regarded, simply said that he passed away. You can’t find anything that says that Kevin committed suicide, but the truth is, he hung himself in the garage and his wife found him when she was driving in her SUV after running to the market. Luckily, their two children weren’t around to see this.
The word “suicide” has such a stigma, and it leaves people in deep shock, such that many can’t find the words to offer the survivors no matter how hard they try. By telling your story, and revealing to us what happened to your precious daughter, you begin releasing the burden of feeling that you have to keep it a secret. I’m not sure if you fall into this category, but I know many families who experience guilt when a family member has committed suicide, as if they were responsible for it. For that, I blame society.
Anyway, family members bereaved by suicide in a family need a lot of care, understanding, and support, and the last thing they need to be feeling is guilt, blame, and shame. I hope that you and your family are seeking some form of professional help because it is proven that those who have gone through what you have, are extremely vulnerable to depression, especially the mothers. Seeking professional help can also assist you with sorting out what I imagine preoccupies your mind these days: Why? Who/what is responsible? Why didn’t we see the signs? What frame of mind was she in to do this? I hope that Maia and Anthony get help too, because they too could be suppressing some levels of depression.
You all deserve better than to be haunted for the rest of your lives, but it will require some work on your behalf.