{"id":1113,"date":"2016-01-18T07:40:51","date_gmt":"2016-01-18T12:40:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/?p=1113"},"modified":"2016-01-19T09:13:46","modified_gmt":"2016-01-19T14:13:46","slug":"mother-swallowed-daughter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/mother-swallowed-daughter\/","title":{"rendered":"The Mother who Swallowed her Daughter"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"RobinA very gutsy and wise friend gently suggested I write an article about living gratefully. She asked me,<\/em> a bereaved mother<\/span> straining to understand why I was still alive myself. How could I possibly know anything about living gratefully? For months I struggled. Maybe my gratitude died four years ago with my daughter, I thought. I mean, what was there to be grateful about when my heart was bleeding? So I started a list. Leaving pen and paper on my kitchen counter, several times a day I read from the list or added to it.<\/p>\n

What my daughter and I loved and were grateful for:
\nwalking in rain with Wellington boots and rainbow umbrellas
\nour dog dreaming, yipping with feet running in air
\npopping bubble wrap
\npink and charcoal mackerel skies at sunset<\/p>\n

My daughter was braver than I. Marika lived on the edge of adventure and disaster, like she had only an hour left. Looking for all the beautiful things, she made trouble dance. She made it sing, made it beautiful. Even cancer.<\/p>\n

honking v-lines of geese flying south before winter
\nthe songs of a thousand frogs on a June night
\ndandelions dotting the lawn
\nthe deluxe sushi platter for two, extra ginger<\/p>\n

Marika blogged and collected friends on Facebook. There were hundreds of photos on her page. I thought blogging was a cult activity. I hated cameras, didn\u2019t type, and feared technology. Some things I didn\u2019t learn to love until after she was gone.<\/p>\n

getting 90 \u201clikes\u201d on a Facebook post
\nsharing yearnings and embarrassing moments in blogs
\n\u201cfriending\u201d strangers online
\ncollecting photographs, making selfies, posting them all over the Internet<\/p>\n

When she died, I dragged myself around, wishing I were dead. Then I found her words. Marika left songs, stories, poetry. She\u2019d written a single poem in a blank journal, like she was daring me to continue. So I wrote. And I decided to become more like she was, to do what she did. I\u2019d become more adventurous, and learn to love the computer. I would find all the beautiful things. I would carry on.<\/p>\n

lemon wedges dipped in sugar
\nsqueaky-clean, just-shampooed hair
\nburrowing in quilts while the wind howls outside
\nhearing our voices magnified and echoed<\/p>\n

When I expanded my world to include Marika\u2019s, my life grew richer. No longer simply a mother who lost her child, I became the woman who discovered her daughter and swallowed her. And now I realize that everything, every-last-little-thing, is precious, that nothing in this world is promised or guaranteed.<\/p>\n

the silver reflection of an almost-full moon in the pond
\na steamy cup of latte warming frozen hands in December
\nsnow falling silently at twilight
\noceans, Australia, running on beaches, roses, stars<\/p>\n

Longevity, love, health, happiness, … even my grief is a gift. I celebrate it all. Photographing and blogging about finding joy after loss, I now believe anything is possible, even grieving and being grateful at the same time. Maybe that\u2019s what I\u2019ve been doing all along.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

This blog was first published on<\/em> www.gratefulness.org<\/a>. To see the blog there, click on<\/em> this link:<\/em> http:\/\/www.gratefulness.org\/grateful_living\/mother-swallowed-daughter\/<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A very gutsy and wise friend gently suggested I write an article about living gratefully. She asked me, a bereaved mother straining to understand why I was still alive myself. How could I possibly know anything about living gratefully? For months I struggled. Maybe my gratitude died four years ago with my daughter, I thought. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[702],"tags":[258,731,169,675,732,730,734,733],"class_list":["post-1113","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-702","tag-bereaved-mother","tag-everything-is-precious","tag-finding-joy","tag-gratitude","tag-grief-is-a-gift","tag-living-gratefully","tag-the-mother-who-swallowed-her-daughter","tag-wishing-i-was-dead"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1113","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1113"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1113\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1113"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1113"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1113"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}