There are many questions I’ve heard parents ask when a child dies. Most are about the beloved child. But when a bereaved parent does finally accept the idea of the continuance of life, what I hear most often is: “Will I ever be me again?” or “Will I ever be the same?”
A child is born from us and can feel like an extension of our own bodies and souls. Most of us want to care for, protect and pass on all we can to our children. So the death of a young person doesn’t feel like the natural order of things. It only feels very, very wrong.
If I accept the idea that the only constant in the world is change, then I accept that with any shift in my life I will grow and things will be different. I’ve often heard these same questions from new parents or even from someone who is going through a difficult breakup. “Will I ever be me again? Will I ever be the same?” As I sit here writing this journal post almost a decade after the passing of my daughter, Sky, I can only answer these two questions with a “yes” and a “no” respectively.
Many years ago I lived in Berlin. During this time I traveled, directed music videos, recorded music with my band, Phonoroid, and gave birth to my daughter. In this photograph I am holding Sky, 8 months old, while on tour with Phonoroid.
Those years feel like another lifetime just as my years with Sky in New Mexico feel like another and my years since her passing feel like yet another. Much of who I was before my painful loss was forgotten by me in the midst of my all-consuming grief. But now, and especially working on our children’s book, Evan and the Skygoats, I am finding my way back to that creative part of me. It is a truly amazing unfolding of memories and new beginnings.
Various Artists. Released July 12, 2019.
Here is another new beginning...
A few weeks ago I discovered that our Phonoroid song, Panic, had been re-released on a jazz compilation entitled Blue Intuition. Hearing the entire album for the first time, I wonder if Hans Peter Salentin’s trumpet solo on Panic is the reason our song is included on this jazz release. I love being a part of this project along with musicians like Abdullah Ibrahim. I even recognize the song Bit o’ Water from one of my favorite French film soundtracks.
I listen to my own lyrics and realize that the words mean more to me now than when I wrote them many years ago.
After every ending there comes a new beginning
And in between there are moments of panic
When Sky passed away, I couldn’t imagine any new beginnings. There was a long list of things I thought I’d never do again— never buying another article of clothing, never writing another story, never dancing, singing, laughing and certainly never having another child. During those first days of missing Sky I once cried for 18 hours without pause. I remember wondering how a body could produce so many tears, how a soul could endure so much pain.
The first time I recall singing again was two years later. I was in Sky’s Uncle Peter’s car driving home from Santa Fe. He played a Marvin Gaye song on his car stereo and suddenly we were both singing. At home that evening I even danced. My heart was opening again.
A few months later I learned I was pregnant with my son, Evan. My sister, Velina, took me to buy new clothes to fit my growing belly. By this time I’d checked off almost everything from my never-do-again list. And new beginnings that seemed impossible in the first days, months, even years of my grief had begun.
I was and am still me.
After I listen to Panic on the new jazz compilation, I look for this Phonoroid CD. I find a copy and I open the booklet to find forgotten polaroids of my yesteryears. The first I took of Musician and Phonoroid Producer Axel Manrico Heilhecker as my train was pulling away from our nearby recording studio. The second is of me by a Berlin canal during a music video shoot.
Through a series of steps beginning with our Publisher at Leaf Storm Press gifting me VanessaVassar.com and Lou Design Studio creating my website, I’ve reconnected with many people from my past including Axel. We’ve now decided to record a new Phonoroid album of children’s music, Songs from the Sky.
I am still me.
After every ending there comes a new beginning
And in between there are moments of panic
Shhhh… let’s climb up to the caves
Sky, age 4, feels the textures of stones in a cave in New Mexico.
My story is only my own. I am acutely aware that people’s suffering from loss can express itself in as many different ways as there are people on this planet. I’m also aware that writing a children’s story based on my own personal loss is opening me up to the world from which I’ve retreated for so many years.
After Sky passed away in 2010, I dropped all of my creative endeavors and worked on farms and construction sites, visited cemeteries and a remote monastery as I looked for places to be. Ultimately, I found my greatest comfort in observing creatures—from ants to bats to birds to goats. I am and always will be eternally grateful for these amazing beings.
Skykisses forever.
V.
P.S. Evan found this goat puppet at our favorite Albuquerque bookstore, Bookworks, a few days ago. It reminded us of Electra the Goat so we brought her home. Illustrator Ophelia Cornet and I will have our first book reading and signing of Evan and the Skygoats at Bookworks on Sunday, October 20th at 1 pm. Lisa Donald, Sky’s beloved Music Teacher, Concert Cellist and President of The Sky Velvet Vassar Music Foundation will play her cello for us beginning at 12:30 pm. I hope to see you there.
