Cecile Kwait – How to Farewell a Mystery
After 74 years Cecilie Kwiat left her accident-damaged body and moved on to another adventure on February 15 (Alberta, Canada time.)
Those who loved her, who’ve been nurtured and challenged and inspired by her, are learning to live with the large, Cecilie-shaped hole in their lives. We all knew different Cecilies. In the end, the best remembrance seems to hear her speak for herself!
by Cecilie Kwiat
I suppose the greatest gift in my life was my daughter. I didn’t realize it at the time, even though the message came through loud and clear, marking more deeply what I already knew. She reminded me how hard it is to be born, to have a life.
I know that sounds a bit dramatic, right? Because we all go through it. Here we all are, plodding along. Funny how ordinary days pile up on one another, the little moments nibbling our breath. All those details of coping with survival shift through existence, until they slowly bury the intensity of what we’ve accomplished in order to be here, in a body.
When I can clear away the debris of those unending events, hold the mind steady and ask what has really been powerful, really marked my life, her birth gleams like a drop of water on a dusty leaf. If everything is balanced, if the world holds still and that feeling opens, time does a loop and my body spins into the past, tossed between her birth and mine.
We both had a hard time in our birthing. At the end there wasn’t any thought. Even more that that: there wasn’t anyone to think! Just a spark of consciousness in an impossible situation; a total dead-end and me pushing against it. I pushed to exhaustion, until I fell away to some place where struggle had no meaning. The spark grew very small, ﬂickered. Everything stopped. Then something other than me began.
Now it’s something I think about, but then it was a swelling force that cut right through. As a separate consciousness I had no way of passage but that power put me aside, took up my body and rippled me through the narrow way in waves as old as time. It knew how to do that because it has birthed us all.
Without the grace of my daughter’s birth to restate that experience I don’t think I would have had the courage to live as I have lived. I had to travel beyond helplessness, beyond fear, to the place where there is nothing and no one. I had to do that again for her to be born. So she became the gift of power to me. However badly I may perform the dance of being, I am not defeated. I watch, study, pray. I try again. I take it as far as I can and then wait for grace to ﬂow.
Life was given to me by grace but I had forgotten my benefactor. My daughter gave that knowledge back to me.