John and I watched the news when a mother spoke about the loss of her son due to cancer. She said, “After your child dies, your worst fear becomes that people will forget them. They’ll forget they were here.” I said, “Yep.” I hope Corrie is always and forever remembered.
"A Time for Heroes in the Return to Arendelle"
When I lost a princess, I left Arendelle--all its queens, songs, and Disney things. I swore up and down I wouldn't return again. Though I'm still not ready to ever hear its songs, or the voice of Elsa, it doesn't mean that I am forever gone from Arendelle, and the heroes that it brings.
Everyone has heroes. They're not all made in gold. But our heroes never
waver in our memories in
the time when the Cherry
Blossom Trees begin to bloom. To us, our heroes
are that first flush of
color against winter's white and gray. It's from
our first memories those
heroes never fade. We fail
to see, in the days when
we switch from tricycles to
bicycles, our heroes'
Kryptonite.
Daddy, you were my first hero, and if you had
Kryptonite, I never knew,
but I know it wasn't easy
in all the years I grew. The choice of love I made
wasn't easy. Perhaps
it made you feel like the
time when spring winds blow, and the cherry blossoms spread. But I hope, in me, you never
doubted my strength as
jokers, riddlers, Two Face,
and Kryptonite flew at me
like bottle rockets soaring
high. I had to learn from
my hero how to withstand the rise of tides.
We can't always rely on our first heroes in our moments in the dark. We must summon our inner gold to form a shield against bottle rockets and the storms. We can add in our memories of our first hero when the winds and waves rise high, enough to take a ship. It takes strength to learn from our hero, and to fly alone.
From our heroes we don't always learn to fight. A lot of times, what we learn is how to navigate the tides, or hold a shield made of our own gold against the unforeseen. We cannot forever fear the shadows; no matter what they bring. We can't fear the moment when the winds will strip the blossoms from the trees. There is only the promise they'll withstand another winter, and the blooms will blossom before the winds.
Our heroes teach us how even if we don't understand the why. After I lost my little girl, I crumpled beside a broken shield. How could I heal when a part of me had died? I could not retrieve this part of my soul in the way Superman gets strong again after the Kryptonite is gone. But our heroes teach us even if we don't know the why.
The tools our heroes give us are not the sword and arrow. But my father teaches me how to split the daffodil and gladiola bulbs, and leave enough of the root giving the plants room to grow as Corrie's garden spreads. He plants them in circles instead of neat little rows. Circles and circles to forever go, and it is then I know
that my hero and I are never meant to wear a cape, nor navigate the skies. We leave this special power to a little girl in the heavens who will paint the sunrise.
I couldn't speak of heroes until I could return to the idea of Arendelle without its little queen. I couldn't speak of the movie, especially the second when Elsa leaves Anna, and death knocks on the door. Although I'm still not ready to watch or hear its songs, I know heroes will return. And in a Northern Kingdom over the darkest sea dwells a little girl who will tomorrow paint the sunrise.
When I left Arendelle, I abandoned all its songs and queens, but everyone has heroes. They're not always cast in gold. In our memories, our heroes never waver. They will return like the blossoms on the trees after winter will expel the white and gray when it makes way for the coming of the spring, paintings of the sunrise, and the time of heroes, who teach us how to plant rather than to fly. Our strength comes from an ax and dirt baptizing our hands. When I return to Arendelle, the Cherry Blossom Trees will bloom.
Today’s poem is dedicated to my father, George, and Corrie.
Poems and Photos by R.A. Bridges. Copyrighted R.T. Dickinson, 2023
Corrie's Season 