In the year 2000

THE GIFT

May the sleeper awaken/ May the bird be set free/

May the door never close between you and me.

In the year 1999, just three months before 2000, two twin babies came into the world. They knew their bodies weren't ready for them but they were on a mission to deliver a gift of love: Their parents had waited for them for such a very long time, had fought so hard to have them, that the twins, whose names were Katherine and Susannah, decided to give this wonderful couple the experience of parenthood, however brief it might be.

[pre*ma*ture']: a blessing delivered ahead of schedule

Within two weeks, Katie began getting very tired. Her spirit of course was strong, but her body couldn't sustain her. She fought as best as she could, knowing her mother and father were right there with her in the hospital aching to take her and her twin home. Her spirit danced, she whispered "I love you" to their hearts, but the physical body was failing. Susy knew her twin was about to leave her physical body, and she also knew their parents hadn't had enough time with them. One of them had to stay a little longer and it would have to be her. It's okay, Katie, she said. You go on ahead. I'll stay as long as I can. And anyway, who knows, this body I have might just get stronger. Susy blew Katie a golden kiss and sang out, See you later!

Now it was just Susy, and the family was spending their entire time at the hospital. Her parents had all but moved in, and the hospital staff couldn't have been kinder. They, too, had grown very attached to the twins. Susy could sense her parents' anguish, the hope mingling with despair, the joy and the pain. Her body seemed to get stronger, but then it got weaker, yet all the time her spirit sang to their hearts. She hoped so much her song would be stronger than their tears, for their hearts were weeping.

"I know six months isn't much time in your terms, but it's all we've been given. We've shared a glorious moment you will always remember. I don't know why it was so brief, but one day you will understand in that deep place inside you where there are no words. When this body gives out, I will leave it, but my spirit will always be with you. We will all leave the hospital together and you will take us home with you. All you have to do is think of us, and Katie and I will be there. You will always be our mother and father, and we will always be your daughters. No one can take that away from you. When your hearts finish weeping, you will smile at the thought of us, knowing that we're around you, watching and loving you."

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

- e.e.cummings

This story is very special to me. I never saw the twins, they never left the hospital, but they became part of my daily thoughts. One day, I took out the painting of a cute little angel I'd made, followed my instinct and sent it to the twins' mom. She photocopied it and took it to the hospital. Many months later, she told me that the painting resembled Katie. I thought she was kidding, but she wasn't. The painting resembled an aunt of hers that Katie seemed to have taken after.

I wrote this tribute on April 7, 2001, totally unaware that Susannah had physically left us on April 9 of last year. Wherever the inspiration came from, I'm grateful. I've lost beloved people at a young age myself, and I believe more than ever that we remain connected in spirit. Thank you, Susannah. Thank you, Katherine. Thank you beloved John R. Copeland, my husband, killed at age 25, who truly loved me, who recognized my spirit and treasured it. And thank you Emma, my sweet mother, RN and midwife, who delivered many, many babies, and who died in her sleep at age 48. Thank you for all the love you left behind, and for the guidance and inspiration you continue to give in spirit.

THE GIFT IS YOU.

This story is also special to me because someone I dearly love wrote the software that brought the old cumbersome preemie mechanical ventilator into the modern age. He was a graduate student at the time and, as happens so often in academe, he didn't get the credit due to him. Which doesn't change anything.

FOR LISE

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