Comments on: after the first death, there is no other

By: Laurel Mumaw

Laurel Mumaw — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 07:56:47 +0000

Hi, I want to thank the author of this article. This post really helps me. I did a search on the topic and some related sub topics and I have found a lot of corresponding views. If you don’t mind, I’ll quote some of your statements in my site. Thanks.

By: whymommy

whymommy — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 12:44:51 +0000

You take my breath away, Bon.

You always do. But this … this. I catch my breath, and nod, and say yes exactly even though I have not been where you are or stood where you stood. But you write it so well I can see through to your pain

and I wish I could wrap you up and take all the pain away, leaving mostly happy thoughts along with the remembrances.

By: crazymumma

crazymumma — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 05:47:27 +0000

oh. those reminders are everywhere it seems.

I take the roots of trees, those root bundles you find? Those wonderful sculptural twisted shapes? And I upend them in my garden. And they become part of my world. Decorated with fairy lights. They are. sublime and magical.

By: thordora

thordora — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 18:11:27 +0000

I don’t plant in mourning-I kill things. I don’t much believe in symbols either, but I am apt to believe that all your energies are on that little girl, and not that tree, and that’s just what Finn would like you to do.

By: Vicki

Vicki — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 14:46:41 +0000

Its hard to separate our feelings from the things we attach meaning to. The tree I had for my little one also died. I refused to pull it. While I was gone one day my mother pulled it and took it away. I wish I would have known, I would have done like Opal said and had something made of it.

I hope you find peace in your heart for the tree because it is not the tree that is important but the memories.

By: kate

kate — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 03:52:27 +0000

You know that i am very attached to the garden, that i have plants out the wazoo. But still Nicolas’ orchid died, the one that we picked out together for his funeral. Nicolas’ orchid Mark II is not faring so well either. It is on the edge of death, even though when we bought the original one we picked a type that i have always had good luck with. All his funeral flowers (plants, not cut flowers) died, though i can blame dh for that. His tree, that we drove for an hour out to bum fuck egypt to buy on his first birthday — it is still alive! Though it did nearly die because we did not plant it in time. I pruned it today, but i worry, because still it is half-alive. The half facing north died over the winter, the half facing south thrives well enough to merit a pruning.

Chloe’s orchid, given by my MIL when she was born, grows & blooms wildly. Next to Nicolas’ replacement orchid, which struggles, even though they are both phals (phaleonopsis), and live next to each other. I don’t pretend to understand this, and i try not to make more of it than it should be — some kind of random horticultural happening. Which my reason tells me it is — I bought Nicolas an african violet one year (must’ve been his 3rd b-day), which was then on the verge of death for more than a year, and then it suddenly turned around and is blooming like there is no tomorrow. Go figure. Plants are crazy.

Yes, i recognize that your post was not strictly about the tree. But i have had a lot of alcohol tonight, so you will forgive me my ramblings.

By: wannabe mom

wannabe mom — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 14:38:24 +0000

I can very much relate to this. We received a beautiful plant after our girls died. When I was on bedrest I sent the plant to our office. I wasn’t there to water it, so it withered. Upon returning to the office I considered replacing it, but felt awful about even thinking of it, so I just trimmed the deadness and it is slowly coming back.

To the rest of the office staff, it is just a plant.

As always, beautiful post.

By: woman in a window

woman in a window — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 13:00:27 +0000

First off, you scared the CRAP out of me. I read, “It’s dying…” while in my reader and then clicked here all sweaty.

Now, is it wrong of me to be so relieved?

I’m also grateful to have found you, you beautiful writer, you metaphor cowgirl.

Sorry, I seem to live inappropriately.

By: Hannah

Hannah — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 12:32:21 +0000

I have no words. We are with you.

By: niobe

niobe — Sun, 29 Jun 2008 11:47:05 +0000

I’ve thought about that line a lot over the past year and a half and what I kept coming back to is this: I will never truly be able to mourn because that other death, the first death, the one that stole everything from me, stole all my sorrow too.