Last night, as Bianca and I were sitting in the free seats at The Muny to see The Wizard of Oz, I reflected on the tin man and why he's dearest to me. Why I relate with him more than the others. This is what I came up with (disclaimer: these quotes are not exact, just the best I could remember from last night, so don't quote me):
If I only had a heart (the tin man)
Today's my husbands birthday. I'll call him and say happy birthday and go out to lunch with my mom in his honor. But I'm not with him. I'm still in St. Louis as I have been for over two weeks now, and have another two to go. I think that being able to step away from my life like this is owed to me. I do it every summer and plan to continue doing it. I usually miss his birthday or father's day or some other important day and he takes it in stride.
As the one-year marker of the death of our child approaches (July 28 to be exact), I'm distracted by the many things I'm doing here. I just spent three days with my friend Hilary, where we shopped, went to The Magic House (a childrens museum), even let Bianca and Caleb (her son) go fishing. We're going to the zoo and the art museum and the history museum and Grants Farm and the Arch. But my husband goes to work and comes home to an empty house and I know the one-year thing is bothering him. But I'm distracted; he's not.
The Heart is Useless so long as it is still breakable (The Wizard of Oz to the tin man)
We know a little something about having our hearts broken. I still feel it every day as I go through my constant outings. I feel it every time I see a child who's just learning to walk (as Miranda was when she passed away) or a child who is the age she would be now. I feel it every night as I'm tormented either with dreams of holding her as she was or my dreams about death. And I feel it every time I don't have anything in my arms, and they're hanging there useless instead of feeling the weight of her in them.
A Clinking, Clunking, Cavernous hunk of junk (the lion describing the tin man)
Yeah, I feel like that too. Sometimes the guilt I feel travels through my body until I feel hard and cold and useless. I feel guilt in so many ways--the fact that I was at fault in the accident, where I put the car seat in the car, that I didn't let Miranda have as many cookies as she wanted, that I wasn't a perfect mom, that I never will be.
The success of the heart is judged not by how much it loves, but how much it's loved by others (The Wizard of Oz to the tin man)
And although sometimes I don't deserved to be loved, I am. By my wonderful husband who puts up with a lot from me. And who is, for the most part, usually supportive whether it's my writing, my book clubs, my moods, my night walks, or just me. By my daughter Bianca who forgives me every time I yell at her. By my friends who accept me and are still around. And even though she's no longer with me, I know that I was loved by my baby who always stopped crying in my arms and was never happier anywhere else than at home.
If I had just had my hearts content, I would have never gone beyond my own backyard (Dorothy)
As I go through my life, I realize that there's not much else as important as my family. As I've said before, if I'd only just known how truly happy I was exactly one year ago, at least I could have appreciated it. How was I supposed to know?
