Kai's Christmas Poem

A week before Christmas, my husband and I went to a Renegade Craft Fair in SF. I thought we were better off getting last-minute gifts at the craft fair than the mall. But alas, we couldn't escape strollered-babies and baby-wearing parents. They were there, too.

Anyway, this craft fair has been one of our favorite events because each year that we go, I discover new and wonderful craft/art work and meet creative people. This year, we found something interesting and one-of-a-kind.

We found a young woman sitting on a stool behind a table with a vintage typewriter on it. Instead of the usual wares - letterpressed posters, handmade jewelry, quilted hats, etc. - she offered poetry. The way the service works was you choose a paper from a stack of vintage ephemera she has, give it to her and tell her what you want the poem to be about and to whom it is for. She would write/type a short poem for you and seal it in an envelop or in a small amber glass jar. You then give a sliding scale donation for her service.

My husband and I love poetry. In fact, it is instrumental in bringing us together. We thought her service was a very novel and clever idea. And we instantly thought of Kai. But we didn't get to it right away. We talked about what would the poem be about first and wondered if she's any good at writing poetry as we browse the other booths. But there was no doubt in our minds that we wanted a poem for Kai this Christmas.

So we went back to the poet's stall and requested a poem. There was an awkward moment when she asked to whom the poem is for and what age. I stammered (I haven't been good at talking about my son to strangers. With doctors and dentists and nurses, I'm confident about it but with people in general, I still find it difficult and disconcerting. *sigh*) and sputtered that it was for our son. I looked to my husband for help and he was able to save me by saying quietly, "He was 41 weeks and he passed away."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the poet said. But I stepped away from the stall and mumbled to my husband that I would check out the other booths we haven't visited yet. The hubby nodded and readily understood that he would stay and wait for the poet to finish the poem. So I wandered the booths, trying to get back to my center.

After a few minutes, he met me in one of the stalls and showed me the sealed envelop. He relayed that the poet said 'sorry' again before he left. I nodded and thought that I should thank her before we leave. So at closing time, we dropped by her stall and thanked her for her work.

She apologized about her seemingly callous question (her words, not mine), but I told her there was nothing to be sorry about because it was a normal question. "I was just taken off guard by it because I'm not normal these days." She nodded in understanding and said, "Thank you for supporting my work. I'm honored to write the poem for your son."

On Christmas eve, we put the sealed envelop in Kai's stocking. We've been itching to know what the poet wrote for days but we resisted the temptation to take a peek. We had planned to open it on Christmas morning and read it to our son.

As you've read in my previous post, I had a hard time sleeping and found myself having a major meltdown. That was after the Lessons and Carols mass on Christmas eve. Instead of feeling joyous, I was morose and in grief. This Christmas, the first time without Kai, was so tough and difficult to deal with. It wasn't a peaceful Christmas eve. But thank you for bearing with me. I imagine reading such a hopeless blog entry posted very early Christmas day (a little over 12midnight I think) is such a Debbie-downer of sorts. Sorry about that.

Anyway, come Christmas morning, the hubby and I reverently reached into Kai's stocking and carefully opened the envelop. We read his wonderful poem together and were moved to tears by it. We cried a good cry. The kind that shatters souls, breaks apart hearts and yet, puts them all back together.  Even if haphazardly.

We miss our son so much on Christmas morning, we ached all over again. But for some strange reason, the words in his poem (the very words conjured by a stranger) have shown us that the gift of LOVE, ours for him and his for us, can bring us much-needed peace.

Thank you, Silvi, for such a hearfelt poem you wrote for Kai.