Sunday

This morning when I was walking Polly and she was sniffing around in the daffodils that are growing now at the edge of our lawn near the street, I noticed a little bit of plastic on our lawn. I bent down to pick it up, thinking the wind had blown it from the neighbor’s recycling bin. It kind of looked like the long thin cap that used to come on the end of Sarah’s feeding tube bag.

It was so strange to hold it in my hand. A little thing can bring back such intense memories. Fill the bag with formula. Thread it through the pump. Prime the pump and set it to run at the correct speed. Turn it on. Hear that soft whirr whirr whirr. All gone now.

And it was a cap for a feeding tube bag – an enteral feeding bag. We gave away or disposed of all of Sarah’s medical supplies after she died, so I was surprised to see it. We used to throw away the feeding bag and the tube and the cap daily. Maybe this one blew out of the recycling one windy day years ago and I just saw it.

I watched a movie yesterday about death. I didn’t know it was about death when I turned it on. It seemed to be about a young gay man who was having trouble with relationships. “All The Right Strangers.” But in the film, his parents have been dead for 30 years and he is still seeing and talking to them. I was very touched by it, although it was a sad movie. Who’s to say how long someone should mourn, and in what way.

Part of me wants to think that the feeding tube cap could have been left for me by Sarah. A little sign from her that she was thinking of me. A little “I love you Mommy.” Keep your chin up.