Wednesday 7 March 2012

Remembering....

Ok...so there are a few dates in the year where my (if you know me) you may notice that I get a little quieter (hard to believe, I know!) - my Mom & Dad's birthdays and then the days they left this earth.

Johan Seligmann - 7.03.1957 - 21.05.1994
Merle Seligmann - 28.10.1957 - 4.6.2003


I've shared a little of my story on this blog here, but not really everything. I feel like it's about time to share the basics, but I feel like there's something I need to say first - this story used to define me, and everything I was and did had this lingering in the background. For the longest time, I felt broken by it, beyond repair, beyond loving, beyond understanding. I'm proud to say that today, as much as my heart breaks when I stop and remember, truly remember, my parents story no longer defines me as a person. It is an integral part of who I am and who I've become as a person, but IT is not ME. And the difference is what has allowed me to become who I am today - happy.
My parents were two of the best people that I've known - it was a privilege to have 6yrs to know my Dad, and 15 to know my Mom. I say that confidently, with only a little bias, but it was not only my life that they touched. For, you see, my parents decided to devote their lives to the work of the Lord - at the time my brothers and I were born they were living in Zimbabwe as missionaries. Yes, I am a Missionary Kid :) The year I was born my Mom was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, a degenerative neurological disease. Thank the Lord for the foresight of my Dad, who even then began making plans for us to ensure our family would be well-taken care of. Even then he must have begun preparing in his head for the time when his beautiful, gentle-natured wife would be debilitated by this disease. The greatest tragedy and cruel surprise was that we lost him first - he was severely injured in a car accident in 1994 (on a car trip from Zim to JHB to surprise us by returning early) and passed away after complications 3 weeks later. What my Mom went through then only hits me now. Losing your husband? 3 young children to care and stay strong for? An illness she new would take everything from her? The panic and heartache must have nearly taken her even then..... A long story short, eventually MS did take her from us - a slow and agonizing process that she handled with the most beautiful grace I have ever witnessed - but by the time she left us she wasn't her anymore, and there was a peace in knowing she would've have to suffer any longer. I sometimes daydream and wish I'd been older when they left....not only to have more time....to understand better, to say the things I felt but couldn't articulate past the fear and the immaturity. Isn't that always how it is? We wish we'd said more, did more, appreciated more.
Today, my Dad would have been 55. And if he were still here, if I'd known then, this is what I would have said to him:
Daddy, I miss you. It's so strange to feel like I knew you, in parts of me and the memories of others, when actually, how well can a young girl know her father? I wish I could hear you tell me how you coped with knowing Mommy was sick, feeling powerless, growing in Faith & learn from that. I wish I could tell you how much I appreciate how you loved and cared for Mommy, I wish I could hug you and tell you that your example of how to love made me seek husband who would love me the same. I wish I could sit next to you, our cameras in hand, and have you be the one to teach me all that I've learnt. I wish I could tell you that I've learnt it's often not the things you say, but the way you live your life, that defines you. I wish I could say THANK YOU most of all... When I think of you, the memories feel out of focus - fine when you look at them out of the corner of your eye, but become blurry when you look dead on. My newfound love of photography makes me feel closer to you than I've felt in years, I wish I could tell you that. 

It's impossible to miss one without the other...

Mommy, I wish I'd understood then. I wish I'd had the power to understand your sacrifice, your strength. I miss you especially when it's quiet, it creeps up on me out of nowhere, wells up in my throat & chokes me. It's the small things that hurt the worst some days - the bittersweet feeling of someone telling me my laugh is just like yours, the wisp of your wedding veil, the pages of one of your much-loved books, the Velveteen Rabbit. Your soft voice on video tape. It's easy to forget the pain most days - it isn't desperate, it isn't agonizing anymore. I forget that it feels sharp, but with dullness around the edges - like a well-worn ball with sharp parts that my fingers stumble over unexpectedly. I miss your advice, over silly things that don't really matter, I miss the way your perfume smelled on you. I wish I could be the one to support you in your pain, rather than the way it was back when you were hurting and I didn't understand. I wish I could just have a cup of coffee with you on my couch and tell you about my day, and get to know you for who you were - not through the hazy perspective of a child. I am eternally grateful for the small things that carried over from you to me - our weird laugh, my love of cats, classic books. It makes you feel more real, especially on the days where it feels like holding tighter to the memories makes them more slippery. I wish I could say I love you one last time....

These two images, that my amazing husband captured, really move me. I feel like I spent so much of my life 'suspended' as in that first image, waiting for something to happen. The second image captures what I feel now - action, passion, impact.

There is somehow great beauty in sorrow....

In knowing great pain, you can truly and fully appreciate happiness...

It reminds me, each day, to LIVE and to LOVE without reservation....

And that, that makes me more grateful than I can say.





13 comments:

  1. Oh sweet Tiffany! These are truly moving. You have the most beautiful way with words. Your mom and dad can be so proud of their daughter! You are so beautiful. Much love and hugs!! Beautiful photos. You look so much like your mom. xxx

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    1. Thank you so much for your kind words Heather xx

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  2. Tiffs you are such an amazingly incredible soul. You bring tears to my eyes with how magnificently you LOVE. Thank you for sharing this most precious piece, it has moved me deeply xxx

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  3. It really was heart breaking to read this, especially because one of my really good friends lost his father today in an accident. I feel like most of us go through life in nice, comfortable patches - often bemoaning the little things that don't go our way, until something like this happens and jolts us from our equilibrium - and we realize that every moment is precious, that we must savour the time we have with our loved ones.

    I knew your story from what Tristan's shared and I remember asking him whether he felt like you somehow got the most luck of the 3 siblings - and he said no because he was the one who got to spend the most time with your parents. I thought that was truly a beautiful thing to say. I'm sorry that you lost both your parents at such a young age - but you have amazing brothers (sometimes I wish I can steal Tristan from you :p)and you have turned out remarkably strong, talented, and beautiful. Keep doing what you're good at and what you love :)

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    1. Am so so sorry to hear Amy :( Unbelievably rough...

      Oh heck I got the easiest end of the stick for sure - I feel like I was always given more space and understanding to work through things. And we can share them if you're keen ;) I happen to think they're pretty damn amazing too :) And thank you so much for the encouragement xx

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  4. Dear Tiffs...By the time I got to the end of this story I was crying,tears rolling down my face. To share so much of yourself, your inner thoughts and feelings is truly brave and commendable. I am so sorry for your loss. Loss is never easy, no matter how many years go by, we will always feel it. I can relate to so much of what you said, I lost my mom when I was two. I don't remember her, but I still feel the huge gap her absence left through out my life. Through all the girly moments she should of been there. There was so much I would of liked to tell her, so share with her. The 12th of March marks the 3 year "anniversary" of my brothers death too. So I guess today wasn't the right day to read your story, because all my own pain and heartache is sitting right on the surface and spilling over repeatedly. As I said...time passes, it gets easier to deal with, the rawness goes, but the dull ache always stays with you.
    Sending you big hugs. xx

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    1. Ah Bonnie my heart goes out to you, truly :( Losing the people is plainly devastating, I don't think it's something you ever 'get over' - but we learn to live with it and allow it to teach us to appreciate the beautiful things that life has to offer...
      Hugs back atcha xx

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  5. My sweet friend - I dont have words. This was a highly vulnerable piece. I felt like I shouldnt read on as it is so private, as if i am tresspassing into deepest parts of your heart and mind. I cant imagine what you must have gone through, what your mom must have gone through losing her husband unexpectedly and then dealing with a painful debilitating disease but all the while staying strong for her young ones - gosh its too much to try take in. I mind screams not to allow myself to try imagine or feel what it must have been like for any of you - the despair must have been indescribable and yet here you stand as does both your brothers. Your mom too stood for 9 years after, for you guys - sacrificially - gosh that love is too profound to grasp. But your last few lines are incredible and you truly embody that which you say. How strong you are. Ive never really fathomed it before., but I look at you through new eyes. How strong and lovely and kind and generous you are. I believe it when you say:

    There is somehow great beauty in sorrow....

    In knowing great pain, you can truly and fully appreciate happiness...

    Tiffs, perhaps its not my place to say this at all and I mean it with the most sensitivity: In this tragedy and sorrow - one I would never wish on anyone - to me I see you have been blessed to understand what few of us do - what really matters and what true happiness is - you live life and you love as if it is a tangiable thing, something you can see and embrace physically - Im beginning to understand you more - and your value of life and relationships and people and loving them is awesome - I mean this as I am in awe and wish we could all understand things the way you do but I have to say, without the tragedy (I say in honesty I dont think I could have handled it the way you have) - so with that said, I respect you so much and look up to you so much to see the person you have become despite life's calamities - you have chosen "Yes" instead of "No" and that is HUGE. I see the blessing of their lives flow through you and extend on to those around you. It is beautiful - that is Legacy.

    God bless you weet Tiffany Burnham. You are a blessing.

    XXX

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    1. My friend, thank you ever so much for your insightful and kind words - they've touched me incredibly much.

      And I completely agree - I believe that God allows things to happen for a reason - even though we can't always see it. It sucks that we often need a harsh wakeup call to be reminded how fragile and precious life, and the opportunity to live it to the full, really is.

      And you too are a blessing :) x

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  6. I feel as though I've entered where angels fear to tread. When I began reading I heard myself say out loud, "Oh, Sweet Baby Girl" as I anticipated what you would share. I'm so blessed to have had my mom for 42 years. And yet the pain of all the moments in time that I wish I could still share with her persists.

    "Bold" is the word that comes to mind when I think of you. It is something I wish to be. As always, I'm grateful for the way you continue to lead and inspire others to embrace life and love and not to let tragedies define them, but to choose joy.

    Heart hug,
    Terri

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    1. Thank you incredibly much for your sweet words Terri - I really don't think it's easy at any life stage to lose someone you love - they always leave a gap that only softens around the edges as time passes - it never is actually filled.

      Thank you for seeing that in me - I don't always see myself that way, but it's something to aspire too :)

      Big hugs
      xx

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  7. Oh Tiffs... tears, so many tears...
    I cannot thank you enough for sharing this. You have a beautiful heart and reading this has helped me SO much in the journey of processing the loss of my mom. Our mother's went through a very similar thing and left us at almost the exact same age. How you went through two massive losses like this and came out being the amazing and talented woman you are? - I'm in awe. I'm super thankful for your friendship and for your heart.
    I'm unbelievably proud of you. I cannot imagine how much MORE proud your mom and dad are of you.
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