Dear Helena — I Know You are With Me
You have been, all along.
Happy birthday, Helena.
It’s hard to believe that you would be eleven years old today.
I try to imagine what it would be like — to have conversations with you. To see you smile. To pick you up and put you on my shoulders. The good news is, I feel your presence. I feel you all around me, all the time. Anytime I write. Anytime I speak. I feel an angel lifting me up, telling me to just keep on going.
I know by saying this in such a way some may say it’s a cry for attention. Putting this out there for the world to see and read. I only want the world to feel the love I have for you. I want the world to know your name. That you were born. That you lived.
I want the world to see you as real, too. For just a moment, on this day, as tears stream down my face, I want you to be real, Helena. I want you to be running free. Full of life. Vibrant. I want to be with you. I want to hear your voice.
I know that I can feel your presence with my eyes closed, and this is good. Better than what it was when I saw you pass away in the hospital. While everyone was celebrating the birth of their children, your monitor was the only one with a flatline. It was so wrong. So backward. The way time should never present itself. I don’t have the words to describe the loss. It’s not natural for a parent to lose a child. No one can argue with that.
I‘ve had many yoga practices — rested in shavasana. It was in these moments of complete repose that I channeled you. I’ve seen you as I see you now, age 11, living out the final motions of childhood, preparing for your life to come, as the blueprint’s complete — you’re just about to start experiencing the world on your own — when becoming a woman takes precedence, and guides you to develop your own sense of self.
My only wish would be to be there with you through all of it. So that you had all the protection in the world. All the reassurance. All the love you’d need to overcome any obstacle. To never feel abandoned. To never feel alone. To know that I would never ask for anything in return — just your presence would be enough. Your smile. Your voice. The simple things a father would wish to experience with his daughter.
I’ve tried to be a good father to you. Even with you being gone. I failed you multiple times. Mentioned you as a means to justify how I’ve been hurt. That I’ve been through the wringer in life. I held your name up as proof, stating you were gone forever, for attention.
I’m a shameful man at times. Full of flaws. Lost without a clue. Though I try my best, all the same. I know you know I have a daughter and a son now. With a mother who hates me beyond compare. I know you’ve seen the love I put into establishing some sort of link with them. I know you wish for my children and me to be together for the first time, without interference.
Helena, you are pure spirit. You are my muse that will never abandon me. Whenever I sit down to write, the words flow. Whenever I play the guitar, the melodies arrive. You are with me, all the time. I never fear for you are here. You’ve blessed a fool with such amazing gifts. I only wish to honor them.
So please, Helena, forgive me today. Forgive me for ever using your name in vain. Forgive me for this offering. Forgive me for all of it. For I wished only for you to live. I wished only for your survival. I thought I was doing all I could to make sure you gestated in the womb of your mother to become a happy, healthy, baby. And it appears I failed you. As I’ve failed so many in my life. Though I must tell you, no failure is felt as much as this. Especially on this day.
Losing you, was the worst of all losses in my life. Even if you combined all the others and I had to feel them all at once again, with full intensity, nothing would compare to the horrible feeling I experienced when I lost you.
Now that I know what that feels like, I wish for freedom. For you, for my children, for everyone. I believe I’ve cried enough. I’ve cried for eleven years.
I pray that all of this changes now. Let us find levity. I know I’m saying this to myself, for you have been free since the day you were born.
Let us be free together now. On this day.
“Dad? Can I tell you something?”
“Yes, of course, Helena. Anything!”
“May the 4th be with you.”
“You’re seriously going to make me laugh? After all, I just wrote?” I smile.
“You know I’m a Taurus, right? Stubborn like a bull. You’re the sentimental Pisces. I can only take so much of all of the mushiness, you know? But I want you to know that underneath my thick exterior, is a heart that beats strong. Always has. And it’s full of love for you, Dad. And it’s true — I’ve always been with you. Always. Anytime you dream. Anytime you wonder. Anytime you write or play music. Anytime you look up at the stars — I look back at you, and tell you that it’s all possible.”
“You know you’re going to make me cry again.”
“Feel relief, Dad. You’ve cried enough for a hundred lifetimes. You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone. Trust me. Just be happy. Because when you’re happy, I’m happy. I can live through you just as well as if I were here in physical form, right now. All you have to do is believe in me. Believe in me, and watch how magical your life becomes.”
“Really?”
“I promise. So go. Keep writing. Keep playing music. Keep meditating and trying out new things. Keep loving people in your corny way. And trust me, your children will be with you faster than you ever would believe.”
“And what about love?”
“Ah, romantic love. I’m so happy that I don’t have to deal with it. It’s far too complicated a thing to figure out nowadays. Just know that she’s out there. Somewhere. There’s one woman who already exists who knows who you are. Leave it to her to reach out. Like I said — just be happy. That’s all you need to do.”
“Will you keep this channel open?”
“Of course. Forever. That’s the way it’s always been.”
“Happy birthday, my darling.”
“Thanks, Dad. Now can we go back to creating again? I don’t like mushy stuff.”
“Of course. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you sing me a song?”
“I can do that.”
“But don’t sing happy birthday. That’s way too cliché. Just sing me something original. Anything. Or you can just play the guitar. I love watching your fingers dance around.”
“You got it…” I said. “I love you, Helena.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
