Her Face

I've just finished recording a rough version of a new song, provisionally called 'Her Face'. It is, of course, about my sister Esme. I wish I could say that this is a positive look at good memories and shared love, but this one is more about the loss and confusion. I hope to do a better recording at some point, but I felt like getting it out there as I had kind of written it for the six-month's-out time. The link is http://www.box.net/shared/cv36h9vgvm where you can download it to your computer.



Like any artist of pretension, here are the lyrics:

Her Face

Kingfisher calls, flies past my bed
Wondering at the things it has said
Under the sun and midst the cold cold rain
Listening through the night for the train

Watching the marsh, clouds on the sea
Wishing that her love, her light will somehow follow me
The skies are bare, the crows keep their watch
Looking for the times we have lost

We wait and wait all year for signs
When we’re alone or thick with wine
We wait for faces in the weathered gate posts
Waiting for the things we love the most

I lie in bed, and turn my head
Hearing through the open window things that she once said
I strain my ears to hear her voice tonight
Saying something good to help me make it through this night

We wait and wait all year for signs
When we’re alone or thick with wine
We wait for faces in the weathered gate posts
Waiting for the things we love the most

Times we had are nothing, anymore
An empty road we drove down long before
Though they’re everything that’s left
The smiles that hide
Behind my eyes
I will never see her face again
I will never see her again

Thanks for the (musical) memories

Music brings our family together - we join energy and become one voice, one song, for a precious moment. I have fond memories of dance parties of Thanksgiving pasts, and lately, the jam sessions and singalongs that take place whenever we gather.

Esme was in the thick of our musical gatherings. Her voice, beautiful and strong like her sisters’, was always clear. It would have been delightful to see her on guitar this summer (or maybe having fun with the accordion, or shaking maracas with her nieces).

I will cherish many musical moments from this year’s trip – Bright Morning Star sung from kayaks and canoes, Brad/Bri Beatles dance party, post-fish-fry singalongs (sometimes joyful, sometimes teary). We sang the popcorn song but it just wasn’t the same without Es.

Halloween Memories

I had the pleasure of spending two different Halloweens with Esme, both of which are the source of great memories. Look at this picture of Brian and I, all dressed up and looking down at Esme. This is in many ways very indicative of the kind of influence Es had on our lives. She's all of perhaps four, and see how she is already in charge of all of us. Brian and I are looking at her, most likely ready to do whatever her bidding is, already having dressed ourselves up as a zombie (Brian, complete with a face mask to achieve the zombie pallor) and a....well I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be (the phantom of the opera?). Franny is around also, costumed in whatever we could find, and we're all there to escort our little girl, dressed up as "lyion", around to all the houses. We know just where to go, Jerry's little neighborhood, where the people seem to enjoy halloween and really create quite a scene, with sound effects and everything. It's a great little night, and we loved being together, and having the chance to go trick or treating once again.

Esme always had the ability to bring out the kid in us, and these photos prove it. Often when I played with Es, particularly as a small girl, we would play imaginative games. Dad frequently mentions the habit that Esme and I shared of walking back and forth muttering stories to ourselves. This habit evolved into acting out shared fantasies with each other. While they can be somewhat harder to maintain as an adult ("oh we're going to play that again?"), I still managed to go into that fantasy world with her a fair bit, and had some memorable moments acting out both cinderella and the secret garden.

I also remember a later Halloween, this one with Todd, when Esme dressed up as the ghost. She was clear about her costume from the beginning, and I think we were all surprised at how awesome such a simple costume actually looked. Esme's vision surprised us all, and as we wandered the streets from house to house, the compliments flowed fast from other trick-or-treaters--"Hey the classic!" "Nice ghost!" "That's awesome!" Much better than all those store-bought teenaged mutant ninja turtles, or whatever it is children like to wear these days. She was a always a girl with her own unique vision.

She keeps us looking up

I have been working on a piece of music with Esme in my heart. Felt it was far enough along to let it go a while. It is titled "She keeps me looking up".

She keeps me looking up by greenkhidr

The night of Esme's death I went for a walk on the beach and captured these images.




I don't have much in the way of words tonight. Just quiet reflection.

Brief thoughts from the cabin

I sat down to write in our guestbook tonight and opened it up to the page from last summer and the last entry is from Esme.

"I am so glad to be here and see Harper and Campbell running around! What beautiful little children they are becoming. I love you! Esme. Happy B-Day aunt Sue!"

Everywhere I turn up here there's something that brings Esme and my mom in clear focus in my head - my mom's decorated outhouse, Esme's beach... yet it's so beautiful and peaceful up here that it seems like as good of a place as any to face the reality of losing those I love so dearly.

Canada memories

Here are a few fabulous videos that Tom, Lisa, Brad and I watched yesterday on Lisa's laptop:

Lisa recorded (surreptitiously) Brian and Esme jamming on the guitars:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCUGJeeM0Zw

Esme recorded a group papermaking session (complete with a Harper clapalong)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03GsgB6VGEA

Blueberry reflections

The blueberry picking picture of Esme and Campbell is my current favorite picture of Esme - I love because I took it, because in her face you can see the light, the joy, the love that was Esme, and because the picture and the day capture a Sioux Narrows typical moment that is precious.

The Little Russell branch of the Kenney Sioux Narrows clan wanted to go blueberry picking because Tom and I had had such a great haul at the field last year. We invited Esme and of course she wanted to join us. The field is fun to enter - you have to squeeze around a fence that very clearly says Do not Enter (we took our picture peering out from behind the sign) and then you have a wide open space to explore, scramble around, and find blueberries. Esme had her pail, just like Harper and Cam, and she carefully led them around for awhile finding good spots. After a short amount of time they parked down in a spot to snack. I remember dumping some of my blueberries into H/C pails so they could eat and she held out her pail and I filled hers too for snacking. In the picture, you can see a glimpse of what Esme would have looked like as a teenager but she was also a kid having a snack in the blueberry patch. On the way home, she sat between Harper and Cam and read them Richard Scarry. She always read beautifully to my children, and I know Gabby loved reading with Esme too.

I know some of the blueberries from that trip made it into a delicious Lisa dessert, and I am sure Esme ate some in one of her famous pancakes. But this trip, although about blueberry aquisition, was really more about the experience of being togehter, and that's what I will always treasure through this photo. It's hard for me to look at all these wonderful pictures of Esme and my children - they were delighted with her and she with them, yet her passing has not had an effect on them at all. (And that makes developmental sense - I am not saying they are heartless creatures, just that they don't really get it.) Harper has some sense that Esme is gone "like grandma", but even my mom's passing hasn't seemed to have an effect on them. And yet, on some level, I don't really get it yet either. I sitll find myself confused by the circumstances, having to tell myself that she's no longer physically with us on this earth.

A line from a Dylan song has been running through my head, from "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go".

I'll see you in the sky above, In the tall grass, in the ones I love

I know I will see Esme in every wild blueberry bush I see this summer.