I’ve been watching the show Doctor Who on Netflix. A couple days ago, I was watching the episode, “The Doctor’s Daughter.” The Doctor and company had ended up on a planet where they were immediately taken captive, and the Doctor’s hand was shoved into a machine where a tissue sample was taken, his DNA was recombined, and a woman was made from it. One of the Doctor’s companions joked with him about “daddy shock” resulting in sudden unexpected fatherhood. He then explained to her that he had been a father before, but like his planet and race, they were gone now, casualties of the great Time War. And then he said, “When I look at her, I see the holes they left and the pain that filled them.”
I loved that line, because it resonated so much. Whenever someone makes a comment that insinuates that since I have had three healthy children since Cora’s death I should somehow be “better,” or that grieving somehow means I’m not grateful for those three, this explains how it feels.
Whenever I look at them, I see the hole she left and the pain that filled it. Whenever I watch them play, hug, hold hands, or even fight, I see what is missing.
It’s like seeing a ghost almost. I can see in my mind where she would fit. I can’t help but imagine what she would do and what she would say, who she would be.
I find so much immense joy in my children. I love every small moment with them.