For My Sister, Jaime

For My Princess Jaime, who Passed Last Night

Her soul came up toward me and passed through my
soul, for a brilliant moment, my blondini daughter,
stolen from me at age five in 1987, sold by her
beast grandfather Milton, died for having
recently rock climbing alone in Spokane Washington
was too tired from trying to climb back up a
slick steep rock face to the world above.

She was so tired from the many trials and tribulations
she endured after losing the woman who lived her the
most, her mother: me.

Rona and Carl had become her ersatz parents, she
had disappeared from Mr Drywitz's NYSMA in Oceanside.

I should have been by her side forever, but I was
betrayed, hypnotized and traumatized by my so-called
husband and his father.

How could they take away the best part of me, the
blondness, the beauty, sparkle and good innocent
charm and joie de vivre and turn it into
some so tired and bedraggled that it called Carl
and said, "Daddy, I got hurt while I was spelunking.
I want to be home." But, of course, it was
never quite right after that.
She faded away in a few days into death.

Then her parting soul saluted me and all the
rest, recalling how she had demonstrated the proper
way to hold her Suzuki violin and bow, to apply rosin
and proudly show the fawning dog, Karasek's mother
perhaps, what she could do.

Jaime, my Norwegian princess, I will slay all of
them for taking you away from me. I will grow
thin and gaunt with the guilt of my stupidity in
never noticing you gone or how till now.

Please forgive me, darling bright spirit.
I had you with me for five wonderful years.
Goodbye, sweet princess, for now.