Send Her Light

Remembering My Baby Girl

What can be said now? What is there left to do when what I fear most has already happened? How does life continue when her scent hangs in the air, when the rug still holds the sweat from her feet, when the dust on the shelf contains the tiniest pieces of her? She is everywhere now–a perspective meant to give comfort, to assuage this massive grief. I search for her spirit in the LA River, where hand-in-hand we would admire how trees and birds could thrive in those cemented banks. There, I find her in the wingspan of a great blue heron. The wind blows carrying her whispers. The sun rises and she greets me with a pink sky and cumulus clouds that follow days of rain from atmospheric rivers. I am struck by the brightness of the full moon in Cancer. I say, “Hey, kiddo.”  And I wish I had more than this. 

When Io was nine, we took a family trip to Maui for my cousin’s wedding. My parents, siblings, and I all managed to arrive at about the same time from separate flights. The sun was setting. We dropped our luggage off and raced down to the beach and ran into the ocean. The water was not the cold, rugged Pacific Ocean of the West Coast. That evening the water was warm and calm.  The sunset sparkled on glowing waves. Io put her goggles on and dove beneath the surface. She emerged, eyes wide with surprise. “Mama, it’s clear! The water is clear!” She spent most of that time under the water taking in this new perspective of the world. This was the first time my whole family had taken a trip together. It was a rare occasion that my mother was there with all her children and grandchildren at once. In tougher times, I had never imagined we could all be together in this paradise. It felt like a miracle was happening. As the sun set, we splashed each other and laughed out loud at nothing in particular. 

Some days later we scheduled a snorkeling trip to Molokini crater. Both Io and I had never snorkeled. When we arrived at the site, the guide explained that the crescent shaped partially submerged volcanic crater had very specific currents. We were to only snorkel inside the rounded area where we were shielded from the strong currents toward the edges of the crater. He continued to warn us that snorkeling in the other direction could be dangerous and one could get swept far out and have much difficulty in returning to the boat. 

I’m not a strong swimmer.  Most people don’t know this about me, but I have a great fear of large bodies of water–large swimming pools, lakes, and the ocean. Perhaps, it is not so much of fear as it is a respect for the vastness of the ocean and an acceptance of the notion that I am small and insignificant. Every lap I’ve swam or every venture past the break is an exercise in battling this fear. Io was not like me.

When the boat guide gave us the greenlight to jump into the ocean, there was a frenzied excitement. I was frozen, however, Io  jumped right in and headed into the direction the guide had just finished explaining she shouldn't go. I tried to shout to her, but she couldn’t hear me. I was the last one left on deck. Everyone else was already underwater and I couldn’t ask for their help. With fear riding on my back, I jumped in and tried to catch up to her. 

My smallness began to sink in. The world beneath the surface that seemed to care less whether I lived or died was breathtakingly beautiful. The expanse of coral and brightly colored fish of all varieties carried on as if they were used to this intrusion into their home.  The currents that we were warned about were real. And there she was in the distance. Either she wasn’t listening to the directions or she didn’t care. I blocked my mind from thoughts and shifted into my body. I swam as hard as I possibly could.  When I reached her, she didn’t seem to realize she was swimming in the opposite direction of the group. I’m not sure if she could see the panic on my face or in my body. I pointed her to the group in the distance and she changed her course. But my fears that day were not quelled. I insisted she use the flotation device, which she refused. I was terrified for her safety, she however, was experiencing the purest joy.  Io clearly did not need any help. She was at home in the ocean. It was really me who was struggling. 

On the other side of the Molokini crater there is an area called “The Elevator.” If you get to the right place in the water, the tides would lift you up high against the crater wall. She swam toward it, found the right spot and then crossed her legs, stretched out her arms toward her knees, and put her thumb and index finger together. In the lotus position, she closed her eyes and meditated. Rising and falling on the tide with a smile on her face. She was at peace.

And much of life with Io was like that. She, insistent on forging her path, and me, trailing behind still learning how to swim. It was never clear when to hold tight, when to let go, when to be tough, when to be easy, when to say no, when to spoil. And how can there be no regrets? I have many. What I am clear about, however, is that loving her is a gift. And being her mother is an honor.

Io Jade, my sweet baby girl, my little chickenface, my baby-kin.

Named for the moon of Jupiter

Brought to the earth on a full moon

Witness to the Transit of Venus

My ascendent twin

Year of dog

Everyone’s best friend

Climber of trees

Destroyer of marigolds

Who smelled every rose

Beloved to cats

Friend to the goats

Collector of snails 

Who finds peace in tidepools

The real-life Princess Mononoke

Writer of truths

Master of playlists

Lover of museums

Admirer of Charlie Chaplin

Superman aficionado

British Bake-off’s biggest fan

Devourer of books

Devotee to the stage

Gifted with song

Bestowed with vision 

Child most intelligent

Child most insightful

Child most empathetic

Defender of justice

Daughter of our time

Inhabitant of choice

Cause of my joy

The morning star

The setting sun

Saint of the cemented river

Called home by the forest

Pray for her.

Send her Light.

Send her Love.

IO JADE LIM 2006-2022