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The Box
Sometimes it’s the case that the people who make you laugh the hardest are the ones who have most to prove. As one who has always tended to take the role of the clown, I know that I try to entertain and engage *most* when I am struggling. And I know that being funny is a great fallback for those times when life gets challenging. Today’s writer is fabulously funny and blazes a trail of humour from her own blog outwards to a starry array of Big Blog Features. She also occasionally writes on more painful, immensely challenging topics, and it is in these that she has found in me a fan for life. Because when she writes about them, she is raw and real and tender and wonderful, and they hook me in from beginning to end. Please welcome Marcia, who writes funny ‘for the moment’ and poignantly ‘for keeps’ – Lizzi.
In my hall closet there is a box hidden beneath bath towels and bed sheets. Inside the box are scraps of memories of a child I never had the chance to know. A lock of hair, some yellowed snapshots and the black and white ink print of a foot no larger than my thumb. There was a time when I needed to open the box daily to reassure myself that the baby existed, if only for a brief moment in my arms.
I keep the box on a high shelf crowded between old baby clothes my children have long since outgrown and the tattered, smudged drawings from their early kindergarten days. I seldom think about the box until it’s time to reorganize the clothes to make room for the clutter of new memories. My hand brushes across the worn flaps and I feel the need to open it again, despite the years that separate me from that part of my past. It has been stored in the closet for two decades, yet every time I see it, I am surprised by its presence and what it once meant to me—-the hopes and dreams of a young mother carrying twins. I lift the lid slowly and touch the silky wisp of blonde hair inside. Folded neatly underneath the sympathy cards and letters is a small, cotton blanket. My hand automatically smooths the satin edge and slowly I bring it to my cheek, remembering the softness of the little boy it once held.
There was a time when I believed the box was all that I had left of Jason, until one morning when I looked into his twin sister’s eyes and saw his smile. She had just taken her first step around the coffee table and rewarded me with her toothless grin. I cried then for the miracle of having such a special baby, and for the twin boy I’d never see take his first step, play catch with his father, splash in the surf, star in a school play, walk across the stage for his high school diploma or escort his new bride down a church aisle. Although I missed him and often wondered what it would have been like to raise twins, I realized early on how blessed I was to have his twin sister, who brings so much joy into my life.
When I was younger, it was very painful to open Jason’s box. It forced me to face a loss I never understood. Today, it represents more than that; it reminds me of the courage it took to work through the loss—something I never could have accomplished without the love of my family and the power of faith. The box became a part of the healing process in my grief. Every time I sifted through its contents, I became stronger.
I’ll never forget Jason or the softness of his skin when I cradled him in my arms. Although our time together was brief, he taught me some valuable lessons. Our children are a blessing, and the special moments we share with them are the little miracles in our lives that make up the memories we carry in our hearts when we grow old.
For J.
Your voice is hidden in the hum
of a respirator, each breath
the weight of a stone
in this sterile room
where shadows of infants
drift across hospital walls
leaves that break loose
from summer trees
scatter into fall
Clouds shift in your eyes
the hard blue of summer
the sorrow of lullabies
you will never know
only my hand against the pale moon
of your face
spirit lifting from my fingers
into the light
your small shadow etched
into the darkening sky.
Marcia Kester Doyle is the author of the humor blog, Menopausal Mother, where she muses on the good, the bad and the ugly side of menopausal mayhem. Marcia is a contributing writer for Huffington Post, What The Flicka and HumorOutcasts. She was named a BlogHer Voice of the Year for Humor in 2014 and Voice Bok Top Comedy Blog 2014. Her work has also appeared on Scary Mommy, BlogHer, In The Powder Room, Erma Bombeck Workshop, BA50, Generation Fabulous, Mamapedia and several humor anthologies. Her own book of humorous essays Who Stole My Spandex, will be published soon by Blue Lobster Book Company.
Marcia, your poetry is so incredibly beautiful, and I am very deeply affected by this post. It stills me. I’m so very thankful for your perspective on this, and that you allowed us to share such a painful yet wonderful memory of love and loss. Thank you.
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Thank you for the kind words, Lizzi, and thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share my story here. XO
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You’re more than welcome.
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Beautiful, Marcia. I’m glad that box represents more than pain and grief. I’m glad it signifies your strength in walking through the grief. Thank you for sharing this.
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Thank you so much for reading it and for your support, Gretchen.
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I cry nearly every time I read a post here on the SW’s but this time I full out sobbed. I would have had a brother and I often think of my mom and the loss she carries with her. I also play the what if I had an older brother game. This was absolutely beautiful and so full of grateful emotions.
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Thank you! I’m so sorry to hear that you lost your brother, too.
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Marcia.
Until now, I only knew the funny side of you. I know there is much much more to you, but to read this, and to know that you live a life filled with humor – you inspire me to prevail, despite tragedy.
Thank you for being a part of the SisterWives blog. You’ll always have a home here.
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That means so much to me—-thank you, Samara! XO
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Marcia, this is haunting and the poem is beautiful. I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s funny…how you can read words from people you don’t know and be so entertained and feel a connection and then you get a glimpse of something like this and it makes you appreciate them so much more. Thank you so much for sharing.
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Thank you Michelle for the kind words—I’m happy that you were so moved by the poem ❤
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Your words are so beautiful and heartbreaking. Finding strength through heartbreak is what make us who we are. Thank you for sharing your words.
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Thank you for your kind words, MRYJHNSN
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Thank you. Sometimes I think I have gone through a loss that no one could possibly understand, but I know that is not true. Thank you for sharing your loss with us and may it bring strength to many, as it did for me.
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Thanks, Carol! We all have our crosses to bear—the important thing is to know that we are NOT alone.
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You’ve expressed your loss and grief so beautifully in that poem. Thank you for sharing something so devastating. Many women keep it quiet after a period of time, thinking they have to let go but as you show us, there is no letting go of your lost baby.
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Thank you, Lisa! It’s my greatest wish that women understand they are NEVER alone after losing a baby. Reaching out to others helps tremendously in the healing process.
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**into the light
your small shadow etched
into the darkening sky**
—–Marcia, this poem soaked into my bones. xxxxxx
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Your words—-my heart. Thank you! ❤
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Being the semi-official court jester in this place may be the hardest gig I ever whined my way into…
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Awwwww…….
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There are some things that it is just hard to be funny about.
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yup
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Marcia, I’m a little wiser and perhaps a little better today for having read these beautiful, poignant, stirring, loving words. Thank you.
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You are so sweet. Thank you, Diane!
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This is so beautiful and sad, Marcia. I’m so terriibly sorry for your loss all those years ago. xo
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It was rough at the time but I have learned and grown from the experience. And hopefully it made me a better person for having gone through it.
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I am so sorry for your loss, Marcia. Thank you for sharing.
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Thank you, Jenn. I appreciate that you stopped by to read the post!
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Marcia, this was utterly poignant and beautiful and ohmygosh the poem is amazing. You let us in on a pain so deep; I know this has huge potential to help others.
You’re amazing and an inspiration, my friend. *hugs*
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You are so sweet, Beth. Thank you. ALL the ladies here at Sisterwives are an inspiration to me. So much love and strength in numbers! XO
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I don’t know how we could ever understand the loss of a child. Such heartbreaking yet hopeful words, Marcia – thank you for sharing them with us.
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Thank you, Dana. After experiencing this kind of loss, I think it’s important to recognize others going through it and to help them in their grieving process.
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I aspire to your brand of inspiration…beautiful
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You are too kind—thank you!
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It’s always astounding to me that something can be both painful and beautiful at the same time. I cannot imagine the pain you felt, and still feel, having lost your son. I am so sorry. I stand in awe of you and your strength and I thank you for sharing your story…that other women who have had this experience will be able to read your words, see you, and know that they will be okay. There is hope. That is what you wrote here. Hope.
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Thank you for these sweet words of encouragement, Sandy.There is ALWAYS hope—-I want everyone who ever experiences this kind of loss to know that.
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Marcia,
You are a funny bunny, but this is my favorite post of yours just because I sense it’s you being you and not making me laugh to distract me from that real you, if that makes any sense.
These brats are a blessing for sure.
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It does make sense and I love that. Thanks, Don!
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It’s a wonderful piece Marcia. I’m so sorry for the pain you must have gone through. My daughter is expecting twins a boy and a girl on Christmas Eve. She’s tried so hard and finally with the help of fertility medicine she’ll finally get to be a mom the thing she wanted most in this world. My husband and I hold our breath scared to death that something will go wrong because she’s my baby. So as a mother to a mother. I hope you got all the support you needed through such a nightmare.
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I sure did but it wasn’t easy—back then people were not talking much about depression and grief. Many did not understand twin loss. The whole mentality back then was, “Why are you upset? At least you have one healthy baby!” We have learned so much more since then. I’ll send up an extra prayer for your daughter–I’m sure she will be fine and you will soon be the proud grandparents of twins! Congrats!
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I can’t imagine the pain and devastation that must come with losing a child. Your post was poignant and lovely. Thank you for sharing with us.
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Thank you for reading and commenting, Jana!
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So deep I actually could almost feel your pain for saying I did would be a lie. Great piece
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Thank you for the kind words!
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You’re most welcome
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Without question, there are those whose brief presence resonates for a lifetime, providing a perspective and insight we’d never have without them. Clearly, Jason lives on in his sister’s smile as much as he does in yours and the smiles you give to others.
Beautifully felt, just as beautifully written.
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I love everything you have said here, Ned. It’s a beautiful way of looking at love, loss and healing. Thank you!
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Poignant and moving. A different side to you that we (your blogging friends) rarely see. And what a superb poem!
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Awwww…thanks, Gary. You now I always write the humor, but every now and then I let the other side show. Glad you liked what you read. 🙂
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I love hearing from a mom that recognizes what a gift her kids are! I’m with you on the humor thing: nothing cheers me up like laughing at my own problems, and having someone else join me 🙂
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That is absolutely the best! 🙂
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You are truly an inspiration Marcia…thanks for sharing this hard-to-tell story, and it’s great to see you on Sister Wives!
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Marcia. I don’t know what to say. Your words describe the pain of your loss so poignantly, I can almost feel it, and my heart goes out to you. Thank goodness your faith and good humor kept you strong through the years. I’m sure your post will share some of that same strength with other women who have gone through a similar experience. Thank you so much for sharing.
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