When I was a little Catholic school girl in my plaid uniform, I learned in religion class that dead babies did not go to heaven or hell, but rather to limbo. The babies landed in limbo because they had the misfortune and bad timing to die prior to being baptized. Since an unbaptized soul couldn’t jump the line and get to heaven, the babies went to a different place as you wouldn’t want them with the drunks, the tax cheats, and the philanderers in purgatory. My mom would tell us all the time to “Pray for those poor souls in purgatory and the babies in limbo,” so it seemed perfectly legit that there was a cloud of floating babies that were on pause for eternity. I prayed extra hard for them as it seemed to me that those sketchy souls waiting to plead their case in purgatory had a better shot at making it to heaven than non-annointed infants, and mostly because I was afraid a limbo baby would drop from the sky and land on me when I was riding my bike.
Since Mark died, it feels as if I’ve been living in limbo, like I’m on a cloud looking at my life but not in it, as it doesn’t resemble anything I’ve ever known. Every morning when I wake up, I open my eyes, look around the room and the light filtering in through the blinds, and think, “Oh you’re alive.” It’s not a good thing or a bad thing, but an acknowledgement that I’m still here which is stunning progress. In the immediate aftermath of Mark’s death, I was certain I was dead and nobody had the heart to tell me that I needed to move along because I was taking up space meant for someone fresher, happier, and easier to be around.
On Christmas morning I woke up in an empty house which was a first for me and not something that will make the year-end highlight list. The kids came over later in the day, we opened gifts, had dinner, and zoomed with Mallory and her boyfriend. It was the quintessential pandemic holiday, and unlike the previous two years, I wasn’t engulfed in loss and on the verge of a sobbing meltdown. Besides the reminder from my mom to not forget about the babies in limbo, I learned from her that on the extra hard days you get dressed up like you care, put some lipstick on, and get on with it because nobody likes being around someone who wears their sadness like a heavy, black cloak. But at the end of the day I couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so I could have a good cry. I’d held it in for days and went to bed like I woke up, alone and a little scared of the future, and missing a husband and a life I loved.
The next day I woke up with the light filtering in through the blinds and told myself I was alive like I do every morning. Thankfully, these last days of this harsh year are nearly over as December gets torn from the calendar to make way for pages unmarked by celebration or tragedy. I happen to know a bit about years that are harsh and how they can make you spiral to the darkest of places. I also know about a new day blinking me awake with the light of a sunrise and asking me to try again.
I’m going to be okay. So are you.
Happy new year.
It’s hard, I know but listen Mrs. Fisher you keep me going. The years just roll together anymore nothing to get excited for only to pray things don’t get worse than they already have. Wishing you blessings on the new year, hang in there. Much ❤️
Loved this. As with everything you have written since Mark’s passing,
I am always reading something I need to hear at just the perfect time.
I agree about the ending of this year. I pray 2021 gives us all a little more
Light and love. ❤️
Once again, I read your new offering with tears brimming my eyes. I know you have to move through grief and that it is not a linear process. I learned that one the hard way. For me, time kept moving but I was stuck. The world spun but I was stagnant.
Keep going and know that so many people that don’t even “know” you are cheering you on. I believe Mark is cheering you too in a peaceful, beautiful place. Not limbo.
Wishing you a healthy, bright New Year filled with possibilities and peace.
Jen
For those of us who have never believed in “limbo” and who scoffed at my 3rd grade friends who swore such a place ‘existed’, I send you my warmest hugs and best wishes for the New Year Kathleen. You are most deserving of an upcoming New Year, and I am always inspired by your writings.
Beautifully written as always. I hope 2021 bring both you and me a chance at love again. We come from different perspectives desiring the same outcome…to laugh again and be really known by another. Blessings of peace to you on this cusp of a new year. You deserve to be loved.
As a fellow graduate of the uniformed Catholic teachings, I never got the limbo thing either. It’s like an attic you put stuff you don’t know where else to put.
I read all your postings Kathy and am jealous of how well and how personal your writing is. Sometimes it is funny and sometimes wrenching. I wish you and your family well.
My hope is that the new year is kinder to all of us.
As usual, your words are to the point and full of meaning. But this time, your photo is the tops! I love seeing your smile.
Loved this! All my friends growing up were Italian Catholics in Niagara Falls, and I remember this” story about limbo”. We were of a different faith and I could never get them to show me where in the bible it said that….
You know my prayers for you are daily peace and a memory to make you smile of your life with Mark.
Goodbye to this horrible year of pain and sorrow for so many people.
I would really like to see the terms and conditions of 2021 before I sign on the line.
And ditto on the picture love the hair, shirt and smile.
Hugs from Georgia ❤️
Dina
Hi Kathy. I don’t know what it says about my state of affairs that one of the nicest things that’s happened this year is discovering your blog. LOL. I miss my old life so much I could scream, and sometimes do. I have learned there are many souls walking a similar path. It is mostly terribly dark and uncertain. So, there really aren’t words to describe how comforting it can be that fellow travelers like yourself light a lantern along the way. I see your light and it is so appreciated. You are not alone. Happy New Year.