Thursday, August 22, 2013

up in my tree

Two weeks and 1 day ago I had a miracle. My daughter, Winona Michele, was born. Since then, I have been perched up in my tree looking down at the past, present and future trying to make sense of what happened and trying to hold onto the miracle that she was.

Little Winnie came into our lives just as quickly as she left. She died in my arms only five days after birth.

From up here in my tree time stands still. The past and future seem like impossible realms of time. I am neither moving forward or backward but beneath me the world keeps turning.

My Winnie kicked and pooped, she farted and sucked. She was beautiful.  She was mine. I touched every part of her, amazed at seeing what had grown within me for the past 38 weeks. But just five days is not enough to leave a significant mark on my memory. Some days I forget and hate myself for it. I never wanted to let her go, but knew that I had to.

So now I hold onto everything she was and could have been, every breath she worked so hard to take. I hold onto her strength and courage and her beating heart that tried so hard. I am so proud of her and proud to be her mom, but I miss her so much.

This post isn't directly about art, but life. And art is life; it tries to make sense of all that is beautiful, ugly, tragic, fleeting. Winnie brought us all of those things. And so, she brought us art. And soon, when I am ready to come down from my tree, I will compose what I can to share with the world all that I saw from up here in my tree and down there with Winnie.

1 comment:

  1. Andrea, my heart goes out to you, Ila, your husband, and especially Winona. I am certain that you will honor her with art both painful and beautiful. Her memory, her strength, and her courage will always be with you. Take as much time as you need in your tree. If you need a friend, I am here. Sending love, strength, and peace your way. --C

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