A Tale of Two Suzies

A poem originally crafted from my grandmother's point of view inspired this week’s post.  These are impressions formed from my memories as a little girl and stories told to me over time.  This bit from "She Remembers" called to me.  

She remembers her niece Susie S-U-S-I-E with eyes as black as marbles.  
She had a stomach ache and a stuffed animal in the hospital.  
The stuffed animal came home.  
She remembers, years later, when Suzie with a Z was born into a family with a legacy of loss.  
Great aunt never met thanks to a car that never stopped.
One great uncle claimed by the ocean; One that never returned from a trip to the corner store.
She remembers to tell her granddaughter to turn the tide.  
And, I try.

Susie died early on in childhood, a complete generation before I was born.  I’ve misplaced an old article detailing her hospital stay and reaction of people.  The exact cause of her illness shifts depending upon which family member tells the tale.  The photograph is haunting- a little girl and her animal.  When I was younger, I would see her in my sleep.  

Her own mother never discussed her with me.  She would take me for lunch and movie dates when I was slightly older than her Susie.  I would giggle and prattle.  She would stroke my hair and say, “My Suzie.”  Or, maybe it was, “My Susie.”

I’ve always had a drive to make my life count, to make a difference.  To be worthy.  No one ever said to me that I needed to live a life worthy of two Suzies.  But...I’ve tried.