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Morphing out of Loss

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Top: Christopher, Captain Imperfecto and Christopher 

June 10th, 2013


Standing on the edge of my twin daughters grave, I gaze off in the distance and stare at the location where my wife is buried and I wonder how we I got here. 

Her final resting place isn't that far away from where we buried our girls that I can't see her and I hope, she can see me, standing alone where we once stood together to mourn the loss of Sophia and Gabriella. I can only wonder if she's there in heaven, bonding with the girls, at the same time standing with me, like old times when we'd visit our girls together.

The sunshines down on me in the vast openness of the cemetery as the rays rest gently on my shoulders as if an arm reaching around me to console my sadness.  The sadness causes me to reflect on all the times I have stood in this very spot with my wife. My right arm draped across her shoulders, her face buried against my right side rib cage as she gently wept. It's an occasion that played out many times over they years. And no matter what was going on in our lives you could be sure we’d bond here at their footstep.

In the beginning of our daughters death we would frequent them almost every week. We'd lay down fresh flowers and we made sure we saw them every holiday or special occasion. For years after their death we'd imagine what they'd look like as we aged ourselves. Time metamorphosing their looks as they grew into young woman.

With every child we'd encounter, whether on a road trip or a day visit to the mall, we couldn't help but compare children to our lost girls. "At that age they'd be that tall" or "She looks more like her mom. I hope they look like you too” was a common debate over lunch or dinner.

It was easy to think about what our girls could've been and what they'll would’ve been as we held the thought of them in our mind because we were in it together, so sharing our thoughts was natural. Growing with them, as we aged ourselves, with the passing of time. It's a shame the thoughts of our little girls get trapped in our heads without allowing them to leave our mind, when all we wanted to do is set the memory of them free so that we may experience the peace that they now have in death. 

And now I must stand here facing the deaths of those little girls and Mimie’s loss, racking my brain over and over with thoughts of what could've been, and what shouldn't be. I have to endure this alone as I try to free the misery of my bad memories from my mind. 

I know it's not healthy to dwell on loss. But when your faced with losing someone all you have are memories. Memories that can make you smile, laugh out loud, cry, and hurt. And no one else can understand because they’re not their memories so it is impossible to understand why some people can’t move past it.


The main thing that people need to understand is that I realize that I can’t change my situation. And that's hard for me because as a cop I fix things. If I were to come to your house, because you requested law enforcement, I can offer you phone numbers, organizations, websites, literature or any other self help ideas to get you through it and yet I have no desire to use any of it. I cannot show my weakness in a time when I feel the most vulnerable because I have seen people take advantage of weakness and it is’t pretty. 

I do know that there is beauty out there. A blooming of a flower as the spring sun shines down upon the natural backdrop of its vibrant colors and hues. Her openness allowing life to enter her so that new life can dance upon her soft lilies so that life can reproduce, is a beautiful thing. For me, I would rather find the beauty in that then to allow those to show their ugly side with their unwillingness to understand. 

So while I stand here alone facing the graves of my loved ones I can only try to see the beauty the goes on around me in the hopes that I can still imagine my girls as they would have grown into the women, morphing into the beauty that their mother is. I can only hope those thoughts will repair my detachment to others and allow them to enter my life so that I may be able to bloom again. 
Creative Commons License
The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Based on a work at christopherfusaro.blogspot.com.

 The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto ©  is also a Registered Copyright with the Office of the Registers, United States of America, TX 7-611-138

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