Christina Tran writes letters in response to Elise Bernal’s zine, Loss and Found: a zine about caretaking, loss, grief, — for support, resources, stories (2018-2019).
Dear Daughters: Remember
Dear Daughters —
Remember how you invited each other in. Remember when you visited the monastery where the dharma talk was given in the monk’s native Vietnamese. How you stood in line and made your way toward lunch — vegetarian food, long wooden tables shared with strangers, and silent mindful eating. How you returned to the meditation hall and lay down on yoga mats: relaxed, calm, napping…or nearly so. Later, you would sit outside on some large rocks to eat ice cream and really talk. The memories of the day will be warm — suffuse with a sense of wellbeing, like rocks heated by the sun.
Dear Daughters —
Remember how you fed each other. Warm broken noodle soup made with care. An armful of giant bok choy harvested with joy. It is enough and it is not enough. Those precious few days will also be filled with loneliness and grief — a gulf between your experiences of loss that can only be eased but not quite bridged. You’ll share hugs and tears, and show each other your art: the quilt in a mother’s image, the clay sculpted into comfort and strength, the drawings that hold space and teach along the way. Here is the only answer to the dance of: How do you give each other enough space? And how do you reconnect when that space is too much?
Dear Daughters —
Remember how you met. On a sunny May day at the edge of Golden Gate Park, in a snaking line waiting to get into Zine Fest, when Elise starts dancing with her friends and Christina joins in — and so, laughing, you learn each other’s names. Later, when you trade zines, you will recognize something of yourselves in each other’s work. A resonant tenderness. An honoring of the quieter lessons in life. An air of care. Simple linework that is anything but. Your books will make their way into each other’s libraries and each other’s lives — gentle company for those days when you need a reminder that you are not alone in your sadnesses and in your (w)holenesses. Remember: if it starts with dancing, you can always return to dance.
Dear Daughters —
Whether we left too soon is not for us to say. But: Remember. Remember that you already have everything you need to navigate the missing. Remember that you can always gather to your chest anything you might need to grapple with the despair. Remember that everything we were is already inside of you. Remember that who you will become is more than any of us can ever know.
— Christina Tran
