Your story: I think sometimes that there are lost relatives like me that have my walk and laugh and touch their lip the same way I do. They are in Ukraine and Sweden and England and possibly an Indian reservation and who knows where else. They are not infinite though. There are finite, walking the earth. All of us invisible to each other. But we touch our lips exactly the same way. We are lucky to discover them.
I deeply respect that you allowed yourself to meet & know the Brauer family...in spite of your body’s thrill, hesitations & resistances. You gracefully danced forward...anyway. You are a brave traveler through Life! I (and BOTH fathers, I’m sure) are so proud to call you “our daughter”. 💜
Thanks momma. "Awkwardly graceful" might be the right qualifier. ;) I've been recalling lately how many hours, days, months you held my wobbly head between your hands, calling on some force to steady me... such a gesture of your steadfast loving. xo
If there were only an emoji of bird wings beating in my chest... wow. And the resemblance, down to the the glimmer in the eyes... it's a living theory of everything.
I read this, perched on what is left of the outcrop at the top of my hill, gazing NW (ish), the sun long gone but the gloaming a vast darkening comfort wrapping itself around tears, as if to say, this is right, this is what happens when lost family are found and they feel and look like sunshine.
You both look like sunshine, both from same gene space, eyes, mouth, nose... uncanny but not.
And then, on the brink of joyous, oh Kimberly, your last line, the traitorous, the unwanted...
“I sit for too long, longing to feel sound—my own company, this body, no kind companion.”
I sit for too long with you, cold now but I am holding you tightly, wishing I could guide you through the liquidity if the barroom floor but tears, again, join the confusion... the gloaming is no longer, just pitch black night and questions...
With love and courage winging across ether wrapped in hope always, stay strong, stay strong xxxx
Sigh. Your words Susie, your words! Calling them "words" isn't right, they are feathers, they are delicate hands, they are prayers, they are life. Thank you dear one.
You tell your story with such care and intention and it makes everything land so much more powerfully.
I was especially blown away by these few lines:
“Her bone structure, skin tone, mouth, but even more, her essence. Cells light up, one-by-one, a galaxy of dying stars reignited by a mirrored dimension of itself. I lean into the gestalt of our humoral resonance.”
You feel the care and intention! I love those two words... I you're so right. Though I must admit, "care and intention" sometimes feels more like I'm in a really long, trying labor. :) I want everything I write to be true, down to the bone, and this sometime takes an embarrassingly long time to conjure.
I can totally relate. Sometimes, it feels so hard to transmute our more ineffable feelings into words. But if I say so myself, I think you do a good job of it :)
You hold us with your suspense as you spread out your canvas to sketch out the scene. Taking the liberty here and there to add your wishes as the house comes into view. We can hear you . There, it is real . I start edging to the front of my seat. Waiting impatiently.
“… my own company ,
this body, no kind companion.”
You have shared with us, a totally unfiltered ride, physically and emotionally.
Doing your very best to put one foot in front of the other . Enduring, willing your body to cooperate on this monumental journey through the portal into your past.
Unfiltered is such a great word. All the "un's" mean so much more to me than the certainties. Thank you for hearing me, thank you for feeling me. Your responses often feel like gentle echos that affirm the work but also remind the self of this beautiful human family.
I am so thrilled that they welcomed you with the widest of open arms. Of course they would. You were/are a celestial gift from Charlie. A piece of him that they get to love on through you, with you. I loved this chapter Kimberly. So many happy tears.
Your body at the end 😭 I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this. So much for your body, heart, and mind to take in. A whole other family, as wonderful as it is…it is also SO MUCH to process.
There are no right words to describe the pain and connection I feel to what you experienced then, being not in tune with your body, being afraid to be in your body. I'm sorry and I see you. But, I'm heartened you got to meet a lovely human whose hug is like the sun itself. You two are both sunbeams and moonbeams. I feel that warmth radiating through your words.
Thank you dear Nadia. As Jenovia so eloquently wrote in a previous comment, maybe I had to fall apart before cell, by cell, vibration by vibration, before I was put back together. Organized around a whole new way of being, a new identity, a new way of living and loving.
No one should have to fall apart but enjoy life to the fullest. However, I absolutely agree, that if we must fall apart, then all we can do is find meaning and value in our new normal to not lose ourselves, and to find ourselves new and in some ways whole and strong. :-*
How you intertwine and finish the poetry Charlie started is so special. I wish I could find some kind of link like that to intertwine with my father. That says, I see you, I hear you, I am part of you. So loving. And your cousin! You both look like a super sunshine explosion of happiness in that photo.
Thank you for saying that! I'm always a bit unsure as to whether to share the poetry explorations. It is special... surely you have a photo of your father? Makes me wonder if, instead of writing a shared poem, perhaps writing a dialog with that photo, as if you're face-timing with him from beyond. ;)
Beautiful Piece, Kimberley, love how you open up, how your prose reaches people. Wondering also if this link will reach your heart... https://suespeaks.org/how-we-saved-the-world Peace, Maurice
That photo! The way you both clasp your hands together in your embrace. The shared joy.
When your words intertwine with Charlie’s, my heart aches. that you’ve found such a tangible way to weave your two souls and make something beautiful is stunning.
Oh my goodness, you just pointed out a detail I had never noticed! Genes are funny little things, so particular at times. I will never look at this photo the same, thanks to you.
And thank you for feeling into the poetry exchange. I wasn't sure I'd keep any of these in the memoir but I'm so glad they're as satisfying to read as they were to create. Big love to you.
In the early days of my daughter and I first reconnecting, there was a moment where she was sitting on the couch surrounded by my family. I wasn't there. The reason for that is a long story I'll save for later. But I'm sure she was shy and overwhelmed as hell. She looked around and saw my siblings' posture and the way they laughed and why and thought, Oh, theses are my people.
That picture of you hugging the sun 🌞 both so radiant. I felt your pendulation so viscerally, 'Do the thing! No! Don't do the thing, it's terrifying! No! Do it!'. And then having to feel the nagging part which didn't get it's way, but still has it's voice, and wants to speak it's preferences... These multitudes can be so exhausting. Bless your dear body for coping in the ways it knew how.
Pendulation... that's a new word for me and I love it! Such a perfect description of my opposing "multitudes." (And an oddly cellular one now too. Is this an example of biology imitating psyche?)
The ❤️ emoji isn’t right here. But you’re heard. I’m reading wildly out of order but the psychological fabric is taut.
In true Unfixed fashion, I do believe your out-of-order technique is just what the doctor ordered.
Your story: I think sometimes that there are lost relatives like me that have my walk and laugh and touch their lip the same way I do. They are in Ukraine and Sweden and England and possibly an Indian reservation and who knows where else. They are not infinite though. There are finite, walking the earth. All of us invisible to each other. But we touch our lips exactly the same way. We are lucky to discover them.
...sometimes I wonder if "lucky" is just a few mischievous ancestors pulling strings....
“Hugging the sun”; the resemblance shows a wondrous cultivation in the same natures field.
I deeply respect that you allowed yourself to meet & know the Brauer family...in spite of your body’s thrill, hesitations & resistances. You gracefully danced forward...anyway. You are a brave traveler through Life! I (and BOTH fathers, I’m sure) are so proud to call you “our daughter”. 💜
Thanks momma. "Awkwardly graceful" might be the right qualifier. ;) I've been recalling lately how many hours, days, months you held my wobbly head between your hands, calling on some force to steady me... such a gesture of your steadfast loving. xo
If there were only an emoji of bird wings beating in my chest... wow. And the resemblance, down to the the glimmer in the eyes... it's a living theory of everything.
I read this, perched on what is left of the outcrop at the top of my hill, gazing NW (ish), the sun long gone but the gloaming a vast darkening comfort wrapping itself around tears, as if to say, this is right, this is what happens when lost family are found and they feel and look like sunshine.
You both look like sunshine, both from same gene space, eyes, mouth, nose... uncanny but not.
And then, on the brink of joyous, oh Kimberly, your last line, the traitorous, the unwanted...
“I sit for too long, longing to feel sound—my own company, this body, no kind companion.”
I sit for too long with you, cold now but I am holding you tightly, wishing I could guide you through the liquidity if the barroom floor but tears, again, join the confusion... the gloaming is no longer, just pitch black night and questions...
With love and courage winging across ether wrapped in hope always, stay strong, stay strong xxxx
Sigh. Your words Susie, your words! Calling them "words" isn't right, they are feathers, they are delicate hands, they are prayers, they are life. Thank you dear one.
Beautiful words once again, Kimberly.
You tell your story with such care and intention and it makes everything land so much more powerfully.
I was especially blown away by these few lines:
“Her bone structure, skin tone, mouth, but even more, her essence. Cells light up, one-by-one, a galaxy of dying stars reignited by a mirrored dimension of itself. I lean into the gestalt of our humoral resonance.”
— such magnetic prose. Bravo :)
You feel the care and intention! I love those two words... I you're so right. Though I must admit, "care and intention" sometimes feels more like I'm in a really long, trying labor. :) I want everything I write to be true, down to the bone, and this sometime takes an embarrassingly long time to conjure.
I can totally relate. Sometimes, it feels so hard to transmute our more ineffable feelings into words. But if I say so myself, I think you do a good job of it :)
You hold us with your suspense as you spread out your canvas to sketch out the scene. Taking the liberty here and there to add your wishes as the house comes into view. We can hear you . There, it is real . I start edging to the front of my seat. Waiting impatiently.
“… my own company ,
this body, no kind companion.”
You have shared with us, a totally unfiltered ride, physically and emotionally.
Doing your very best to put one foot in front of the other . Enduring, willing your body to cooperate on this monumental journey through the portal into your past.
Unfiltered is such a great word. All the "un's" mean so much more to me than the certainties. Thank you for hearing me, thank you for feeling me. Your responses often feel like gentle echos that affirm the work but also remind the self of this beautiful human family.
“Hugging the sun” 😭
Indeed! You two look so much alike!!
I am so thrilled that they welcomed you with the widest of open arms. Of course they would. You were/are a celestial gift from Charlie. A piece of him that they get to love on through you, with you. I loved this chapter Kimberly. So many happy tears.
Your body at the end 😭 I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this. So much for your body, heart, and mind to take in. A whole other family, as wonderful as it is…it is also SO MUCH to process.
Happy, full, overwhelmed, messy and joyous tears. The sun wouldn't have it any other way. xo
'Hugging the sun' is a slice of heaven. I can feel it.
There are no right words to describe the pain and connection I feel to what you experienced then, being not in tune with your body, being afraid to be in your body. I'm sorry and I see you. But, I'm heartened you got to meet a lovely human whose hug is like the sun itself. You two are both sunbeams and moonbeams. I feel that warmth radiating through your words.
Thank you dear Nadia. As Jenovia so eloquently wrote in a previous comment, maybe I had to fall apart before cell, by cell, vibration by vibration, before I was put back together. Organized around a whole new way of being, a new identity, a new way of living and loving.
No one should have to fall apart but enjoy life to the fullest. However, I absolutely agree, that if we must fall apart, then all we can do is find meaning and value in our new normal to not lose ourselves, and to find ourselves new and in some ways whole and strong. :-*
🙏💕
How you intertwine and finish the poetry Charlie started is so special. I wish I could find some kind of link like that to intertwine with my father. That says, I see you, I hear you, I am part of you. So loving. And your cousin! You both look like a super sunshine explosion of happiness in that photo.
Thank you for saying that! I'm always a bit unsure as to whether to share the poetry explorations. It is special... surely you have a photo of your father? Makes me wonder if, instead of writing a shared poem, perhaps writing a dialog with that photo, as if you're face-timing with him from beyond. ;)
Beautiful Piece, Kimberley, love how you open up, how your prose reaches people. Wondering also if this link will reach your heart... https://suespeaks.org/how-we-saved-the-world Peace, Maurice
Oh!!!! What a wonderful idea!!!!
Oh Maurice, how I want to read this but it's "password protected." Any chance you can copy and paste the text here?
Wow, the family resemblance is strong! You and Greta could be sisters.
That photo! The way you both clasp your hands together in your embrace. The shared joy.
When your words intertwine with Charlie’s, my heart aches. that you’ve found such a tangible way to weave your two souls and make something beautiful is stunning.
Oh my goodness, you just pointed out a detail I had never noticed! Genes are funny little things, so particular at times. I will never look at this photo the same, thanks to you.
And thank you for feeling into the poetry exchange. I wasn't sure I'd keep any of these in the memoir but I'm so glad they're as satisfying to read as they were to create. Big love to you.
In the early days of my daughter and I first reconnecting, there was a moment where she was sitting on the couch surrounded by my family. I wasn't there. The reason for that is a long story I'll save for later. But I'm sure she was shy and overwhelmed as hell. She looked around and saw my siblings' posture and the way they laughed and why and thought, Oh, theses are my people.
Oh!!! If your daughter ever wants to chat with someone who absolutely gets that experience, I’m all ears and ❤️.
That picture of you hugging the sun 🌞 both so radiant. I felt your pendulation so viscerally, 'Do the thing! No! Don't do the thing, it's terrifying! No! Do it!'. And then having to feel the nagging part which didn't get it's way, but still has it's voice, and wants to speak it's preferences... These multitudes can be so exhausting. Bless your dear body for coping in the ways it knew how.
Pendulation... that's a new word for me and I love it! Such a perfect description of my opposing "multitudes." (And an oddly cellular one now too. Is this an example of biology imitating psyche?)
I am going to say yes, with absolutely nothing to back that up! :)
Ahaa ! thanks for subscribing, Peace, Maurice