If I didnt know how I felt when I first wrote about this day back in 2005, then after what happened this morning I have a much better idea. Today is the anniversary of a life changing event that happened 13 years ago and that up until now, I have almost carried alone. At first I did so to protect myself but in the more long term, to protect my wife and daughter Hannah from the gravity of a family tragedy such as it was. But when I least expected to feel this way and after so many years, suddenly the anniversary has shed new meaning on what I feel underneath. I think the revelation is also probably down to my Losing Kath posts which have had me recently revisiting places that might otherwise have been lost in my soul and how that journey has had me come to a path in the road, where I least expected myself to end up. In going forward with my story telling, it has brought me right back to the past and my conclusion can only be, that right here at this point, I must still have unfinished business. I am preparing to write and post any day now, about Katherines funeral two years ago, but I currently find myself suddenly swamped with additional even conflicting feelings and other preceding anniversaries that are coinciding and now almost by chance, it feels everything is coming together in an expected way and they are very much related both by blood and in nature. The story of how Kath and Jessicas journey ended up in the same box has many chapters and though the destination ended in the same place, their journey there was very different. I think like all complicated stories, they dont really have a true start or nicely tied up ending and if I am going to tell such a story, just as has been with Losing Kath, the tale of Losing Jess will similarly. have to start somewhere in the middle. But to complicate matters further still, the middle of this story, is set long after what you would think was its end. I have decided to post this piece on its ninth anniversary having made up my mind today while stood at the very place that first inspired the original in the first place; The Book of Remembrance at church. As I arrived at Church today for the 10 am service I had one thing on my mind; my daughter Jessica and her anniversary of the day she died. I have gone to mass every year on this day to mark the occasion with lighting a candle in her memory and to stand paused in thought while staring at her name as the only entry on the page of November 28th in this Book of Remembrance. But it just so happened that today when I went, a funeral mass was also taking place at the same time. As I walked in two ladies were stood at the back of the church near the entrance way and beside the books case and wooden stand. One of these ladies is the mother of one of the alter servers who is close to Hannah in age and who both know each other well from serving together. When Katherine died two years ago, this lady had heard the sad news from her son, that Hannahs the alter server had lost her mum, but she never knew who her husband was, having never met me. A few weeks after the funeral in trying to escape the emotional furnace of our empty home, I took our daughters to a joint school and church community event themed international day. At the event there was food being served from all areas of the international community and I found myself at this same ladys stall sampling her food. Seeing how much I liked the taste of what she gave me she piled on a whole load more and I told her it was far too much for me to eat, to which she replied that I should take it home for my wife. Her husband who was standing beside her, knew who I was in relation to Kath and instantly corrected his wife in embarrassed whispers and she very apologetically put her hands up but I was quick to assure her that I had taken no offence and from there, each Sunday at mass ever since, both husband and wife greet me very warmly and ask over the girls and how we are doing. So today when she saw me, she gave me a Hymn book and the order of Funeral Service for the deceased, which I took before turning my attention to the stand beside her and its contents; the Book of Remembrance. As I looked at it she said pointing to the entry on the page, so sad, a baby!, to which I replied, I know, she is my daughter. I didnt realise the effect it would have but the poor lady who for two years had been in gestures and words offering moral support, realised once again she had made a similar mistake and to the same person, but this time she was undone by the the cascading effect of realising how much more there was all along to my loss and the story behind it, and with that she started to cry uncontrollably despite every effort to hide it. As I stood staring at Jessicas name in the book, I felt terrible for this well meaning lady who doesnt have a bad bone in her body, and I turned her around and gave her a big embrace, and told her that everything was alright and not to worry, and then I took my place and waited for the service to start. I sat next to my sister Sadie who has unfailingly come every year despite me never prompting her or anyone else to ever do so and as I sat there with the mass on the way, the emotion of the moment engulfed me. How I had become the guardian of this legacy and custodian of silent grief, and how my role always had me keeping everyones walls up in place, for fear of them bringing my own ones crashing down. But in this moment, I had failed and come down they came crashing and the tears and emotion overwhelmed me in public once more and everything Kath and I with Jessica ever went through, went racing through my mind, and all I could think of now was the two of them together once more. So if I didnt know exactly how I was feeling for so long, it was because of bottling things up to protect others around me, but now that my wife was gone, the need to be strong was replaced with the need to accept, what others saw in me, and the reality that all this has happened to me. I wrote this first piece 9 years ago in November 2005 and up until now, only 3 people have ever seen it or read it. I gave it the simple name of what it was, but if I think of it now, it is really, the first transcript of what would come to be, memoirs of the Losing Kath blog even though I never knew it back then when I decided to write it. A second unknowing such piece/post would be the true second entry on the Losing Kath story, but it is buried deep in a time vault in the grounds of St Teresas of the Child Jesus RC Church, Morden. It was buried there in October 2012 along with other things from other parishioners, and it was written hurriedly on the same day while we were at mass. This was the last church service that Katherine ever went to alive and that I would have her sat next to me during our Sunday worship, but of course I didnt know it then as I wrote about her while sat beside her. She read it herself and acknowledged the sentiment being expressed before I place it in the capsule and it was sealed up. In it I wrote about what was my fear of losing Kath and of what our daughters lives would come to be like, in the 50 years until such time that the time capsule in October 2062, would be dug up again. I will be 92 if I am lucky to be alive and that is my aim, to recover that post and join it with all of the rest and make the story complete, but if I am unable to make it that far into life, my hope is that one day my daughters will unite for that occasion and recover it for me. It is really a letter to them after all. But that will have to wait another 48 years before it takes it place as the second ever transcript in the Losing Kaths story. The story below is the piece I wrote in 2005. It is asks questions that perhaps I answered today, today on the anniversary of Losing Jessica. Anniversary Service 28th November 2005 The Church service is nice enough I guess though it has long been since it was dedicated to the passing of our daughter Jessica, and now it is just a regular day that we attend on her anniversary of passing. It feels ages since at the mass any prayers for her were said or since mass was offered up in her memory. I never know quite how I feel anymore but I am okay I guess. but that is also part of my biggest problem, guessing and not really knowing if I have come to terms with just how I should feel and wondering whats normal and if I am still going through an adjustment period. I know one thing I feel; For writing all this down, how much I hate myself! I hate the thought of writing about it whether trivially or in great detail. But if I am asking myself how am I feeling, then perhaps its worth exploring just the same. I have been asked so many times over time, how are you doing in relation to Jessicas loss and I am sick and tired of how many times I have replied; oh fine thanks, as if I am betraying her memory or the significance of her part in my family. On the other hand though, everything about her remains such a special part of me and I hate giving up details of her so easily, but the rare times that I do, all the feelings resurface in a way that help bring her back to me and ensures her memory does not become distant or forgotten. I might not even ever let anyone not even you reader, read this, as I cannot bear the thought of you thinking I am bearing my soul to you. But should you ever find that you are invited to read this, know it is not my soul but a tiny piece of someone very special that I am entrusting to you. So every year we ask our parish priest to dedicate mass for our Jessica on the anniversary of her death, the 28th of November. For the first few years, those members of our family who were able to come with us, did! It had been Father Gill at first who said the mass for the first two years and that felt appropriate as it was he who had come out to the hospital to baptise Jessica there when it seemed unlikely that she would make it to the church ceremony. He knew us well and having met Jessica, the service rang true each year. But sadly he lost his own battle with cancer around 2003/2004 and last year a young priest took his place after he passed away. Fr. Patrick is a very nice but also very private and as a consequence comes across bit stand offish, and last year when he gave the service it felt like the significance of the day was beginning to be lost and become another fixture on the calendar. But now just another year later the parish has a new head priest and one who I have come to know well from his involvement with our older daughters primary school and by the way that he engages everyone in conversation, he just is someone you want to sit up and listen to. So this year when Katherine asked him to dedicate the mass in memory of Jessica and it was he who led the service, I found myself wondering about what he might be thinking. Was he looking at me in a different light, had he any idea, did he really even care or was it just another service like millions given before? I found myself thinking, how comes I cant say any prayers or responses without thinking of their meaning and whats the point in a service if all anyone does is churn out programmed responses just like any other mass every Sunday of the year. I wondered if my mother or either of Katherines parents looked at me thinking, he doesnt look very sad, or hes hiding it well, etc... I wondered if it will ever matter to anyone again other than to me and my wife. In the parish newsletter, printed is Jessicas name and at last a new keepsake, something to add to the few things left of her, and in the book of Remembrance for just one day each year, the page is opened to 28th November and one sole entry, allowing me to stare at her name for as long as I like , knowing the feelings it brings me will be lost for another year as I wait for the pages to turn to that date once again. Her name stands alone on that page with no other entrants. Jessica was born on Immaculate Conception day December 8th 2000, sharing this birthday anniversary with that of my Grandfather Salvador who died many years earlier. She was born with a very rare chromosome disorder of which there was no other medical records of anywhere in the world and in truth no-one really knew how to help her. It meant in short, that she had one problem after another and each one being a story to tell. When she was born we decided to call her Jessica Maria. Partly in tribute to my mother Maria. Jessica spent nearly all of her life in hospital managing just a few stays at home totalling no more than three months out of nearly a year. Despite this poor health, she only missed one important family event, that being the wedding of my sister in July 2001 at which I had the honour of acting as best man. But she did make it home for her mother Katherines birthday in June and then again for mine in August and later for her sister Hannahs in November, almost as if she knew these dates by heart. Sadly, although she made it home for all of our birthdays, she never made it home for her own and she passed away in hospital in our arms, just ten days short of her first birthday. This also happened to be the anniversary of my Grandfather Salvadors passing. Her funeral was eventually arranged for December 10th and where she was laid out in the chapel of rest, we visited her each day up until closing time on the Saturday before the funeral. It was the last time I would ever get to see her face again in the flesh and it was on the day of her birthday. We laid a card and a teddy bear present beside her then kissed her goodbye for the last time. She was cremated on the Monday and her ashes are still at home here with us and I dont if its fair, should I scatter them and set her free, or can I keep her home forever part of the family, with her two sisters now, myself and her mother. I feel fine, but I dont know in fact what I feel. I neither want to give anything about her away nor do I ever want to deny her existence either. Someone once told me, when you are asked how many children you have, make sure you include her, she is still your daughter! I did try that advice for a while but have since stopped, it is far too complicated and caused many unnecessary problems. On one occasion after i told some distant colleague that I had 3 daughters, he much later at a party asked Katherine my wife, where our other daughter was ? When she told him there was no other, he insisted; Kevin definitely said to me that you had three daughters,, to which Katherine had to explain her loss to a total stranger. Similarly, someone I once told, has since become close to me at work and asks me about all three girls frequently because I never told her of the loss. I always feel bad now having misled her but I can never face the thought of having that conversation with her now. Its not that I want to deny Jessica existed, its just that she is too special for the trivial conversation that follows the question, so how many kids do you have?. I would rather share that with someone deserving. Anyway Reader, I hope that I havent depressed you too much as I really did not meant this to take this tone. But this time of year and every year, from November 28th through to Dec 8th and the 10th, I get invited to so many places, events and things and although I do enjoy going to them all, I also feel a bit guilty that I am having fun and not really reflecting much. I do not know whether to thank you reader or to thank myself, for having given me the rare opportunity to talk about my daughter even in a very small way. No-one not even my family ever asks, but I understand its not an easy thing to do. But telling someone ever so little or letting a little piece out once in a while, although may be indulgent, helps me to celebrate and renew the fact that she ever existed. I hope that this peek into my Losing Jessica story is taken as an expression of appreciation in a way of thanks to you, who ever you are, for taking the time to support me and listen. Kevin Plicio - December 2005
Posted on: Sat, 29 Nov 2014 02:07:53 +0000
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