…city lilacs
release their sweet, wild perfume
then bow down, heavy with rain.
–by Helen Dunmore,
from ‘City Lilacs’,
From Abraham’s Journal
February,1850
Dreaming three-year-old Eddy’s cough wakes me. My feet can never find their slippers. Padding quickly to his room I notice again it is drafty, no matter how high we bank the fire in its hearth. In fireglow, I see Boots, our old lab, lying along Eddy’s small form, giving him her warmth. Her tail thumps and she raises her head briefly, then plops it back down and closes her eyes.
It’s been almost two months of red-blotched pillowcases. I lift Eddy’s tiny head to flip the pillow. He’s ice cold.
December 1861
My feet can never find their slippers. I run the long hallway to ten-year-old Willie’s room. His blanket rises and falls rhythmically. My body droops with relief.
February, 1862
My heart numbed with grief, I think of how city lilacs release their sweet, wild perfume then bow down, heavy with rain.
Note:
The origin story for this started with seeing that today is February 12, Abraham Lincoln’s birthday and is a holiday celebrated in many U.S. States (but not all.) That, in turn, made me think of, _Lincoln in the Bardo_, the book George Saunders wrote that I read last year, that focuses on the death of one of the Lincolns’ children, Willie. Willie was born 10 months after another son, Eddy, died at the age of 3 on 2/1/1850. Willie died at 11 years old, on 2/20/1862. The 2017 novel takes place during and after Willie’s death and depicts Abraham’s journey through his grief. It won the 2017 Man Booker Prize and was the New York Times bestseller the week of March 5, 2017.
Kim is today’s host of dVerse’ Prosery Monday. Kim says:
Write a piece of flash fiction of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line in the order in which it has been given. You may add or change punctuation, but you may not add words in between the given ones.
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I did not know this story about Lincoln but death among children was common in the past. As a matter of fact my father was sick with TB at the age of 11 (in 1928 which was before it could be cured) so I might have never been born…
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Omigosh, can’t imagine trying to heal from TB as a kid. I remember touring Mammoth Cave in Kentucky many moons ago. When we got into what felt like the belly of the beast, there were small beds set up in there. The guide said they used to have people living there to cure TB :(
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My father stayed at home with a terrible diet and my grandmother studied with him
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Wasn’t your dad a big explorer? I wonder if that bedridden time for him inspired his desire for the freedom of grand adventures?
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Yes I am beginning to think that could have been a factor
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Wow, Lisa, you really got into this story! I love the diary form, the historic references, and the cinematic feel to it. But it’s so sad.
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Kim, when I started the story it was going to be about Willie, but in the research I learned about Eddy, and then the focus was clear. To lose one child would be the worst thing ever. To lose two would be more than anyone could bear. Mary, their mother, never got over their deaths :(
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I always learn something new from you, Lisa.
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<3
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Wonderful use of the diary form, Lisa, as you deftly follow the journey through grief, the unconscious persistence of denial until finally acceptance sets in.
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Dora, thank you so much for your insightful feedback.
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You are so welcome, Li. 💞
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I really like how you pace this huge family tragedy into a tiny story.
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Thank you, Jane.
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I did not know this history. What a difficult loss that must’ve been. It makes me wonder if the grief he experienced made him a more empathetic human.❤️
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Ali, it wouldn’t surprise me. Saunders’ book is well worth a read.
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I immediately thought of “Lincoln in the Bardo.” A wonderful take on the prompt. But you also–knowingly or not–made me think of Whitman’s elegy to Lincoln “When Lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d.”
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Oh my, now I’m getting goosebumps. Looking at the poem Whitman wrote, he also uses droop in the first stanza. If this isn’t a message from the beyond I don’t know what is. Thank you for bringing this poem to my attention, Merril.
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You’re welcome. Isn’t that wild? It’s a very famous poem though, so it might be in your subconscious somewhere. I always think of it when the lilacs are in bloom. One of the bridges connecting Philadelphia and NJ is the Walt Whitman bridge.
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The poem is new to me, and I wrote from Kim’s prompt with lilacs, so a different trajectory that led to it. I think of my grandma when the lilacs bloom. Her yard was full of them.
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That really took me back to what it was like to live at that time
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Thanks for reading, Randy.
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wow, fascinating story/poem to the prompt that gave such insight into the time and so sad these little sweet feet, Li❣️
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Thank you very much, Cindy. It made me cry as I wrote it and read it after it was finished.
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Eureka.. a wonderful affirmation of your work, Li❣️🙌🏽👏
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<3
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Wow, I love this!
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Luanne, thank you very much <3
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You’re welcome.
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It’s sad how often little ones used to die… still happens and would be hard to take. The perspective of Lincoln is a poignant touch. Thank you for sharing your look at it.
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Marleen, thank you so much and Saunders took that perspective and I hijacked it. My little granddaughter was born in the middle of covid and so it’s been quite an experience all around.
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We forget how much more perilous life was just 200 years ago. Your words are a visceral reminder. (K)
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Kerfe, thank you. I remember one of my great aunts (grandpa’s brother’s wife) had miscarriage after miscarriage. She kept the baby that lived in a shoebox in the oven. Aunt Wilda finally had their baby, Carrie, and she was (is!) such a sweet person <3
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When I did a small search into my own ancestry I was surprised how many dead children there were. And I imagine some were never recorded also.
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Oh no :(
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I don’t think it’s unusual. We are lucky to live in a time of medical miracles. We don’t think of it that way, but it is.
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An interesting historical prose, Lisa. I can’t imagine losing a child. That would really send me for a loop!
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Thank you, Dwight. I remember when my oldest was just a toddler he got some kind of intestinal flu and dropped 5# just like that. I look back at that time and still cringe.
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You are welcome, Lisa. We had a similar situation with our oldest as well. He got severe diarrhea and had to be given rice water for a period of time till it cleared up.
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So you know what I’m talking about. Thank God our babies survived!
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Yes, it is amazing any of us survive! :>)
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Back then it was many life and death moments on the prairie or wherever you lived. It’s cool when people base stories in history.
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Yes there were, Max. Thanks for reading. This one was meant to be.
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p.s. as in this poem was meant to be.
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I can’t imagine how hard they had it…in all directions.
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Such a unique response to the prosery challenge, Lisa! You did the story proud.
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Carol, many thanks <3
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Wow , Li this is such a poignant story, so well told.
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Sadje, thanks much <3
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Most welcome Li
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This is such an incredibly sad journey the Lincoln’s traveled. As parents ourselves we can’t imagine the grief of losing one child and the fear of losing another. It must be unbearable. Your writing expressed those emotions so beautifully, Lisa. Very well written piece.
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Thanks much, Nancy.
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Didn’t know the story of the Lincoln children.
Curious of the book “Lincoln in the Bardo” now!
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Definitely one that explores grief.
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Grips my heart
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I love what you did here, Lisa. Taking the story of Lincoln’s loss and wrenching our hearts for him.
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<3 Thank you, Dale.
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💞
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Love the diary form Lisa. Great write
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Ms Hazy, thank you <3
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Child mortality was such a commonplace, but no less a powerful grief, as your prose shows.
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Paul, I think Abe was a caring individual who felt things even more acutely than the average person. If you get a chance to read Lincoln in the Bardo, I think you’d really appreciate it.
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This must be so – you are the third person in recent times to say this, so – as they say – three times, better pay attention.
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Lisa, this is a great story, and, I never knew this about lincoln’s son! I need to get that book you mentiined! I’d enjoy it!
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Thanks, Carol Anne. Yes, it is a great read, tough to take in some parts.
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