Dear World:
I am still grieving, of course, after two years without Carrie's good heart and kind spirit. There are many hours and minutes spent admonishing myself for not being “good enough” as a parent to her. She was an accomplished angel on this old earth, and she taught every one of us who ever had the privilege of knowing her, how to be a good person. So, I wanted to hurt, to suffer physically, for having been a less than perfect mother. After pondering this for several months, a few weeks ago I received my first tattoo. It is very pretty: her name, Carrie, and her birthdate , 02-16-73, on my inner right wrist, with a small three-leaved shamrock underneath. The shamrock represents the half of me that is Irish, the three leaves represent my three daughters.
Hurt like the devil, too, right there where the skin is like gossamer. And it was wonderful. But it really, really hurt and I vowed, “Never again.”
I wanted something to represent my appreciation for all this campaign has been to me since February of 2007. It has buoyed me; kept me afloat during days when I was certain I would sink with the pain of losing a well-loved child. Barack's words, on the day he announced his candidacy, on that cold day in Illinois, drew me in and comforted me, when I was sure I could never feel comfort from any source.
Carrie’s death gave me resolve: to try to be more “Carrie-like” and less cynical.
This campaign has given me purpose and focus.
It is comforting to know I will have them both with me always.
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