To Laura on New Years Day
It is unusual for me to leave you behind for any reason. When I crossed the Ohio River on the new toll bridge leaving Louisville, I felt deeply why I needed to leave you behind. For the first time I felt our family; how substantial, how strong it has become. We grieved for our daughters still-born daughter. We by turns held the baby until she was laid to rest. And then the four of us spent the next day and evening together. After crossing the Ohio I recognized how strong the bonds are between us in Illinois, and our daughter and her partner in Louisville. Distance and time are rendered transparent, minor circumstances, easily overcome by love. I have never really felt how tough our connection has become between the three families that we, somehow in spite of great odds, helped give birth to.
I had to tell you about my stop at the Waffle House. Waffle House 67 is just off I65 at Franklin Indiana. It was bitter cold, around 3 degrees, windows icing over. The counter was warm with good will. The grill man handled his tools on the hot steel griddle to perfection. I had a cheese burger, with lots of pickles, no 
fries, with coffee. My bill came to $6.26 and I left a $5.00 tip. That was a bargain. “Waffle House heros,” came to mind as I observed the regulars seated at the counter and the hard-working staff. I felt good to be among them.
For a while as I drove in light traffic I listened to the Homer-of-our-time, Bruce Springsteen. Maybe comparing Bruce, the blue-collar-troubadour with the poet who composed the Iliad and the Odyssey is an overstatement. But time will tell.
I was taken by his tune, Atlantic City, on the Live in NY City CD. Every line of the refrain is perfect:
Everything dies baby that’s a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on fix your hair up pretty and meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Yes, our family and especially our daughter has experienced a bitter loss. We cannot run away from this, or pretend that Baby Kai will grow up with us. But we must also LIVE because that is an act of resistance, how sorrow is overcome.
I’ve thought more about the words of the chaplain who acknowledged that Kai was one of us and that she has died. I liked the poem from Kahlil Gabran that she shared with us. Here are words from another poem by the poet that were a comfort when I read them.
On Joy and Sorrow
by Kahlil Gibran
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can
contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the
potter’s oven?
….When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is
only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see
that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
