Pablo

I awakened this morning and slowly began my day. It is dark and rainy here and the wind is crashing heavily in to the surf. A good day for staying in and writing. Suddenly, I am almost knocked over by a flashflood of memories. I recall that Sekai had complained of the same thing. Sudden memories, washing over him, tossing him in the surf, throwing him on to the compacted sand, leaving him there roasting in the sun with his dried-up thoughts, and then picking him up and starting all over again. I didn't want to be caught in this tumbling, so I listened to and watched each thought, seeking the wisdom hiding there. And then the tears burst forth through the dam, dragging with them the cries that were not as stifled as I had thought. Then I heard it welling up, "Mommy, I didn't mean to hurt you." Sekai didn't call me mommy, but it would be like him to do that now, just to make me stop and think and question. Sarcasm. Isn't that the purpose of wit, to make a point, then cause the other to question it, and be lead to confirm the initial point? So I calmed myself with this thought, and then questioned why in fact I was having these thoughts right now. Ahh, it is the 10th. Again. At this time on this date three months ago, my son was still alive.

I decide to go outside, to scream his name at the wind and the waves, to share this cry, this prayer, that I carry in my spirit in my heart in my body in my mind in my mouth all day every day, and demand that the water and the air join in. The sea greets me angrily. At first I pause. Then I recall that I have survived laying down my son, and I tell the sea and the rain and the wind that I am not afraid. I yell at them: you remember Sekai. Even as I hear my own voice, I am not sure if it is a demand or an accusation. They continue to stir. I yell at God, "if you can stir all this, why couldn't you stir up help for my boy!?" I hear a response, feel a peace, a reminder that it wasn't meant to be. Even Jesus came for only an appointed time. No, I will not be comforted just yet. I start to scream, "I am angry at you". I am not sure if the words actually come out of my mouth because I have to stop and examine this. Am I angry at God? And if so, why, exactly? I decide that I am angry that things had to go this way, that my sweet potato is not here, that God didn't make it different, that my son was allowed to suffer.... I scream, "But I loved him so much, I tried to love him so much, he was such a beautiful baby, I did my very best, and he was so hard to love, so hard to care for, he didn't want my help, he didn't want to get better, and I tried to help him..." And then it crashes on the sand and bursts into tiny pieces, joining the foam at my feet. He is not suffering anymore. Appointed time. Purpose. The peace returns.

I turn to leave, having said my piece/peace, and been comforted in return. Then I stop, realizing I haven't actually screamed his name as I said I would. I turn back towards the water, I even turn to face the rain and wind straight on rather than having them at my back, then turn back to the waves and bellow "SEKAI!!!" Ok, I can go now. I take a few steps, then I find it. A tiny blue toy sticking up out of the sand. Ok, Sekai liked blue and was a big fan of toys (though he wasn't allowed to keep his when he was away). What is it? Oh, a bubble wand. I like bubbles. But it is a little kid's toy, so why...ahh. It is a bird! Again, with the birds. (More on this later.) Later, telling the story to a friend, I notice that the penguin is named Pablo, and I wonder if he is a Backyardigan. I just looked him up. He is indeed a penguin, so he is indeed a bird. Yay. He is also a Backyardigan...something little kids watch, so why...then I read on this site http://wrchildrensprogramming/pbworks.com/The-Backyardigans that Pablo "usually makes mistakes and is very self conscious at times." Check, and mate.

I know, Sekai, I know. I love you, too.