So, I wrote an essay about August and Pearl; actually, it’s pieced together from posts on this blog. And I submitted it to this show called Listen to Your Mother that is performed annually in 10 cities across the country, including Austin. And I ended up being cast as one of fifteen writers who will read our pieces in this year’s show! Wow — I’m so proud!!
I’ve been feeling like a writer again, and it feels great. Articles, essays, site content for my former (and once again current) employer…it feels so good to focus once again in the way that writing requires, to consider words and their nuanced meanings, to try hard to get at the exact truth and to determine how to express that truth. I feel like I’m flexing muscles in my brain that I haven’t used in years.
And it feels so good to honor August in this way. To keep him alive in some sense. To keep talking about him; to keep telling the world that he was here, that he mattered, that he is missed.
After my audition for the Listen to Your Mother show, Wendi Aarons asked me how it felt to read my essay aloud. It’s a sad piece; I almost teared up a few times as I read the words. I felt uncomfortable reading it, though I knew Wendi and her associate, Liz McGuire, were already familiar with the piece. I guess it seemed too sad to read aloud. And yet — as I told Wendi — reading it aloud felt good, because I am always looking for ways to honor August that feel right. Cupcakes each year on his birthday, shared with my husband and my friends who were with us at August’s birth — that feels as close to right as I can get. Attending support group meetings to share this loss with other bereaved parents — that has felt right for more than two years now. Talking about August whenever he comes up, despite how uncomfortable I sometimes feel doing so, also feels right. And now it feels right, and so great!, that I get to take part in the LTYM show and read this piece aloud to an audience of potentially 300 people.
Oh, I expect my piece will make us all sad. But then the next writer will take the stage and read her piece, and maybe that one will be a funny one, or a heartwarming one, and it’ll take some of the ache away. After all, my experience of motherhood as August’s mom — it counts, too. And I’m not alone in this experience…which is very, very unfortunate, but also quite fortunate in a different way.
Eh. It’s late and I’m blathering. But I wanted to post about this good thing that happened, since it makes me feel so good, and feel closer to my sweet boy August.