Last night Kai was laying in the bathtub, his ears were submerged and his soft blond hair was swaying gently in the water. His freckles seemed to stand out just a little more against the pale white of the tub. I remember as a child liking to hear my voice while my ears were underwater. Distorted and warm. All the words with softened curved edges. My son with his body thinning out at 2.5 years. Small but long, soft and perfect. Innocent and sweet. I wash his parts and I talk to him as he keeps his ears underwater. I smile at him. He looks at me and says:
Kai: "my brother died, Camille died."
Me: "who was Camille?"
Kai: "She is my sister."
Me: "Yes, she is your sister"
Kai: "I miss her, I miss Camille."
Me: "I miss her too."
Kai: "Talk about my swimming class."
...just a passing thought, spoken out by my little boy. These are my thoughts all day long. It is so nice to have them spoken out loud.
Today I received a photo of Camille's name written on Christian's Beach. I took Kai into the library and we sat in front of the computer and opened the picture and turned up the music. I started to cry. It really is very beautiful.
Kai: Look mama, look at the beautiful sunset."
Me: It is beautiful isn't it? It says "Camille" on the sand."
Kai pulls my chin to face him I know he is looking at my tears and searching my face for my emotion and expression...he says: "I love you" and gives me a kiss.
Me: "I love you too Kai"
Kai: "I want Camille back"
Me: "Me too buddy, me too" with more tears.
How is this little person so intuitive and sweet and loving? Can I help continue this kind of empathy and kindness as he grows into a man. I look at him and see my daughter, I look at him, my first born, my love and wish his sibling was here for him to shower with kisses and hugs. He is just that kind of child. I am so lucky to have him and so unlucky not to have Camille. How can this be? I have been missing her a lot lately. That sounds lame. I miss her a lot all the time. But I see the little girls in shopping carts all round and pudgy. I crane my neck to see their heads and faces when they are in the infant carriers. I know I tell myself it is normal, all people want to look at babies, it is true....it just makes my heart ache. I want to see her everywhere. I see her nowhere except when I look at my son. I imagine the snow blond hair and the smooth, white, soft skin. I imagine the smell of her head and the touch of her tiny hands. I am just missing. 4 months this weekend. It feel like a lifetime and yesterday all at once. I came across a doctor visit reminder note in my car for the 16th of June...14 days before Camille died. It wrenched at my heart, to know at that point she was alive, all was well. My baby was almost here. I am so grateful for my son. I wonder when I will feel anything but desperately sad when I think of Camille. She gifted me with a wonderful pregnancy, with anticipation and love, she gifted her brother and father with dreams of the eventual family we would be...the sadness of those dreams not coming to fruition trumps the 9 months of love I had with her. I find that strange but it is the missing that overpowers my heart.