Monday, February 27, 2012

Remembering my daughter.




A couple of weeks ago I got a call in the middle of the night that informed me that my daughter passed away. She was my middle child and the vet tech who somehow managed to trick Hans and I into adopting Wilbur just days before we took off on our first attempt at living on our boat.

She was born in December and I'll never forget how much fun it was to have a baby so close to Christmas. After having dealt with a first born who woke up every two hours, cried far too much and sounded like a fog horn, Rachel was a welcome relief. You see, she was the 'good' baby. The baby who slept an unprecedented six hours during her first night home and always smelled like Baby Magic. She seldom cried and went from being a perfect infant to a precocious toddler (she was the only child I ever had to put on a leash), and by first grade she was reading chapter books. She actually gave me more problems at the age of ten than she did at thirteen and Hans still remembers that when I met him during my kids' turbulent teenage years, I told him how close we were and how thankful I was that we got along so well. Don't get me wrong, life surely wasn't perfect and this past year was the most difficult one we ever lived through. During all of Rachel's life she was an animal (or aminal as she said) lover. Spiders were not to be stepped on, snakes were beautiful, and she swore if she ever saw someone abusing an animal she'd kill them. Luckily no animal abuser ever directly crossed her path.

I have to tell you, I've never seen a child so enamoured of toads in my life as Rachel was. She went on daily toad hunts, and the bigger and juicier the toad, the better. Each day would find her crouched and rooting through flower beds and then WHAM! she'd pounce and come up with one very astonished toad clutched in her sweaty toddler hand. On one memorable occasion she placed an extra fat juicy toad on her head and it peed all over her. She didn't care a bit and, no, she didn't get warts.

One distinct memory I have of her as a toddler was the day I looked out our sliding glass doors and saw her standing beside our house and clutching the toad of the day in her chubby hands (no toad was safe when Rachel was around). Her response to my asking her what she was up to was, "Yook, Mommy (the letter y took over for l in those days), a nocopillar is crawling up my yeg!" To this day we don't measure the severity of the coming winter by studying caterpillar stripes. We study nocopillar stripes.


I flew back home for the funeral and my poor youngest child, whom I refer to as Baby Girl, literally took over and made all the arrangements. She did an incredible job and we're all so lucky to have her in our lives. Rachel's pit bull, Duncan, will now be living with Rachel's dad. He's come to know Duncan over the last few months and has grown very attached to him. Duncan will be happy and taken care of very well.

Even though this was a tragic occasion; on a lighter note, I finally got to meet my son's girlfriend. My son was my first born of nearly 29 years ago and was the fog horn crier. Needless to say, First Born got sick to death of being referred to as 'almost thirty' and being told he better treat this girl right and not do something stupid and lose her. This is because she is wonderful, we all fell in love with her, and I only hope she didn't run screaming into the night after meeting First Born's family 'en masse.'

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A sign?

I've often read stories stories about people who claim to have received a 'sign' from those who've passed on before them. I don't discount these claims and have always tried to remain open minded about them.

Last week Hans and I spent a very balmy Saturday evening sitting in our cockpit and contemplating Rachel's life. I told him that if there really is a heaven then I just bet Rachel stomped right past St. Peter and is now stirring things up but good (and also looking for our deceased family pets as she always insisted that all animals have souls). We spotted a couple walking past our boat and Wilbur came up from below and realized that is was just Lucy and her owners. Lucy is a standard white poodle from the other side of the marina and so after displaying his potty patch abilities (much to Lucy's owners delight) Wilbur went back down below to resume his long weekend nap.

Lucy's owner's shouted out a quick hello and then before moving along, Lucy's mom commented that they never come over to this side of the marina but since they didn't have Rachel with them, they could.
Hans and I froze and I asked her to repeat her comment. She said again that if they'd had Rachel with them it would have been impossible to stop as Rachel causes too many problems on their walks.
Our reaction startled them and long story short, we told them my daughter Rachel had died the week before. After expressing shock and condolences she told me I should take this as a sign. She questioned why she even felt the need to mention her other dog and, I mean really, how many people name a dog Rachel?

She then related a story about how years ago her father (whom due to a nasty divorce she'd lost touch with twenty years previously) had died. His name was Pome and the day after he died (he was from Scotland) a car in front of her (right here in Florida) had a license plate that read POME. She found this to be an odd coincidence and decided that this was his way of letting her know he was okay.

She told us that they have never walked over to our side of the marina but that particular night her back was bothering her and she thought a walk would do her good. As they started to leave Hans asked them what kind of dog Rachel is and they said a poodle. That really didn't mean much and then she added, "she's a red poodle."

For the last five years my daughter dyed her hair red.

Whether this was a sign or not, it did make me feel better and that's all that really matters.

I debated posting about my daughter's death. It's extremely personal but at the same time I felt it would be somehow selfish to her memory if I didn't.


I will continue to blog about our life on the boat. I find that keeping my mind busy is what I need to do and curling up in a ball of misery will do no one any good and will not bring my daughter back. We are certainly grieving but I'm not going to drag it out here on a regular basis and I don't think Rachel would have wanted me to.

As for Rachel, I hope she's truly at peace now. I hope she found her grandmother, whom she was very close to. And I hope Heaven is full of big fat juicy toads.



23 comments:

  1. I'm sorry for your loss. After my mother passed several years ago we also noticed several coincidences that all revolved around things she loved in life. Someone called me and told me they had a dream about my Mom (and didn't know she was gone yet.) We turned on the radio and on three separate stations at the same time her favorite song was playing. Things like that. I've always been conflicted about all of it. I don't know if its a sign or not, but you're right, it did make me feel better. Sometimes I still have dreams where I meet with her, and I always wake up happy when I do. Good luck.

    Tate

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    1. These are the kinds of things I've heard from many people and if it gives us a small amount of comfort there's nothing wrong with that.

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  2. You have my deepest sympathies. Losing a loved one is never easy. I think the celebration of life that just took place is perfect. The pain will take time to dull, the loss will always be in your heart, but you'll have toads and nocopillars to bring light to your heart.

    Thank you again for sharing.

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    1. Thank you. Right now we're just trying to remember the good times.

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  3. My condolences, I'm so sorry for your loss. Though skeptical of signs (more of interpretation than existence) I do believe that sentiments prevail...Good luck, stay busy--the light does not cease, just illuminates elsewhere.

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    1. Thank you, you're most likely right about signs being more sentimental than anything, but it gives me a sense of optimism wondering if something else will pop out at me. Rachel loved this kind of thing so if anyone could do it, it would be her.

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  4. So very sorry to hear of your loss. I'm 27 and it sounds like she was close to my age... I do believe we're sent signs after the loss of a loved one. I still get a scent of my great grandmother's perfume every now and then... I always think of it as a sign that she's still with me and will always be watching over me. Thank you for sharing her story. I hope you find comfort in those wonderful memories.
    -Corbin's momma Jenn

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    1. Rachel was 25. I've always tried to see the bright side of things and I think it's wonderful when people feel they're still in touch with someone who's gone. It keeps them in our hearts where they belong.

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  5. Wow, I'm really sorry to hear of your daughter's passing. That's never a good call to get :-(

    Probably late to be of help in this case, but I've offered before that if you ever need a localish Wilbur sitter, I'm in St. Pete.

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  6. I do remember your offer! Thank you very much and you never know we could very well take you up on your offer some day! However, Wilbur doesn't know he's a dog and every couch, bed, and food that's not nailed down is up for grabs!

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  7. I, too, would like to extend my sympathies for the loss of your daughter. Loss is always difficult, but the parents loss of a child is particularly hard. It was touching reading your remembrances of her life.

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    1. This is something I never thought I'd have to go through, but now I have. I will think of her every day and she will never be forgotten.

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  8. I am so sorry to hear of your loss! As a mother myself, I can only imagine your pain. I think you're right to talk about her death on your blog, as this is a huge (and sad) experience that you're going through. She looked a lot like you (so cute), and now she lives on through your readers as well.

    The woman stopping by and mentioning her red dog named Rachel ... wow!

    Your daughter sounds like the kind of girl who would only want you to continue living and smiling. I am so glad that's what you're doing.

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  9. Actually about the only resemblance Rachel had to me was that she was a brown eyed blond. She looked much more like her cousins (on her dad's side) with her sllightly slanted eyes and Slavic cheekbones. She was a beautiful person inside and out.

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  10. Hey Laura. Just sent you an e-mail. Jeff, Bryon, Bob and I all toasted Rachel on the day she passed away, and though I never got a chance to meet her, I will never forget her. She will live on through you and the memories you have of her. Thank you for sharing her with all of us!

    XOXO,

    Cyndi

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    1. Cyndi, thanks for the email I really appreciated it. I'm sorry we couldn't get together but this May for sure! And it will hopefully be a nicer weekend and a more light hearted time.

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  11. I'm so, so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing her story. I hope that the beautiful memories and signs continue to help you through the roughest of times.

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    1. We certainly do think about her every day. I wouldn't have Wilbur if it wasn't for her so that helps too believe it or not.

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  12. Laura, I wrote a response yesterday, but it seems to have been lost. I'm so sorry to hear about your daughter. How devastating. I would encourage you to write about her and your grief process here if you can. It would not only help you, but as writers, we leave bread crumbs for others. Someone will treasure them. You always write from the heart. Don't stop now. Bless your heart.

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  13. Hi Laura, Don't know how else to reach you. No need to publish this, just wanted you to know I'm thinking about you -- even though we've never met! Sending good energy your way and wishing that made some tiny difference. In times of grief, I've found it impossible to blog. It feels so irrelevant. That does pass, and I look forward to hearing from you when you find the heart to blog again. My blog has a contact form if you want to email me.

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    1. Tammy, thank you so much for your comments. I know that you too have lost some very close friends and family this past year. I never in a million years would have thought I'd lose a child but I did and for some reason it makes me want to appreciate what little time I myself may have left on this earth.
      Right before Rachel died, Hans and I got a marriage license. Needless to say we had to postpone the wedding but in order to use it before it expires, we're getting married this weekend and my other two children will be able to attend. So sometime next week I hope to have a more uplifting post.
      Again, I thank you for your kind thoughts, it really does mean a lot to me.

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  14. Congratulations, Laura. You brought a tear to my eye. I hope you'll tell us more soon, uplifting or not, your voice is lovely.

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  15. Tammy,
    If it weren't for computer, camera, and iPad issues I would have posted already. And then Blogger made some changes and I can't download pictures!!!!
    Tomorrow my computer needs to visit a doctor and I just might write a pictureless post anyway.

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