It has now been two days since we marked the fourth anniversary of Heiko’s death. I wrote to a friend this morning that I am exhaling deeply for the first time in about a month. Christmas is over. January 3rd is over – for yet another year. It is not because I dislike this time of year, it is simply the intensity of it all that makes me appreciate the more pedestrian quality of life when the cycle is over. January 3rd, in particular, is a much appreciated Day of Remembrance. It is one of the few days out of the year that I do not suppress my sorrow, my longing, my regrets, my thoughts, my feelings, my memories, my grief. Instead of them silently co-existing with my daily routines and interchanges, I give full expression to them. Friends and family join me in this and we mourn again together. We re-member together. This year I spent hours going over photographs of him. Can you imagine – I was even able to laugh (through tears) of the one of him with spaghetti hanging out of his mouth. I was laughing while simultaneously my heart cinched painfully at the light in his eyes. Mischevious, intelligent, sparky and fun – it is all there on his beautiful face. Heidi’s obvious enjoyment (and pride?) of his antics are a mirror no doubt of my own as I snapped the photo.
As we are in London this year I was not sure what we would actually do on the day. For the past three years we have held beautiful memorials surrounded by family and friends singing songs, telling stories and walking to his grave. In the end we chose to spend it at Kew Botanical Gardens. There is something about deep loss and suffering that is inextricably twined with the appreciation of, and need for, beauty. Beauty has consistently been one of the few antidotes to my broken heart and spirit. I need to feel connection to the mystery that throbs at the centre of all things and beauty is the portal. It is the only way I can function: for without that mystery all of this suffering would be utterly meaningless and cruel. And I do not believe we live in a meaningless and cruel world. Aristotle wrote: “In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous” and I agree completely. Who can fail to be enlivened by the strange, the symmetrical, the knarled, the colourful and surprising natural world we live in?
As Don and I were out walking in Kew Gardens (where Heiko threw in a rainbow), Heidi was in Toronto marking the day in her own way. We had recently placed a grave marker (finally, what a difficult task that is) at the cemetery and I thought she would go there but instead she chose to visit Heiko’s tree at the Humber River. I understood her draw there; only the day before I had had a solitary walk along the Thames – moving water too has its medicinal qualities for the grieving soul. Afterwards she wrote to us:
I wanted the many of you who contributed to this memorial to know how much our family appreciates this tree and all it symbolizes. It takes a village to raise a child; it takes one to bury one as well. You were there for us and for Heiko and we will be eternally grateful.
Peace of the living waters to each of you.
LOVE,
Gabrielle
Sweet Impossible Blossom 