by Maria Kubitz
Margareta’s baby brother, Paxton – who isn’t much of a baby anymore – just started preschool this month. He is about the same age as Margareta was when she started, and he goes to the same preschool she went to. While there are many, many similarities between Margareta and the brother she never met, there are some very distinct differences. Paxton is a very outgoing kid. He often says “Hi” to strangers he sees in the store or on the street. He often introduces himself to other kids on the playground in an effort to play with them. He rarely acts shy. Margareta, on the other hand, was very choosy who she let see her talkative, vibrant side.
While she was loud and boisterous with her family and close friends, strangers would have to earn her trust before they were allowed to see that side of her. Often, she would meet new kids at her brothers’ baseball or soccer games and shadow them quietly, waiting for the right time to inject herself into their play. She would charm adults with her sparkling eyes and coy smiles, but rarely open her mouth around them. And yet, if she were interested in something they had (snacks, shade on a hot day…), she would inevitably, silently get it from them like a snake charmer.
This shy, quiet side of her seemed to be amplified when she first started preschool at the age of three. The first day I dropped her off, she was fine. No tears. She was happy to be there. But on the second day, she saw another girl crying when her dad dropped her off and it occurred to Margareta that she was supposed to do that too. It then took a few weeks – and bribes of chocolate – to get her to stop crying when being dropped off.
About a month after she started, we received an invitation to a classmate’s birthday party. I thought it was a good opportunity to meet some of her classmates and their parents, so Margareta, a couple of her brothers and I went. It was at a local park. We were one of the first guests to arrive and decided to play a game together as we waited for the party to officially start. Margareta was being her normal self – the normal side we were used to. Then I overheard the birthday boy remark to his mom about Margareta, “She can talk?”
I laughed out loud hearing that. And so did her brothers. Boy…if they only knew.
Even though Margareta LOVED preschool and talked about all the wonderful things there, apparently she was still her shy, quiet as a mouse side while she was there. Even a month or so after that when I was dropping her off, I stood by her side while she told her favorite teacher about what she did during spring break, only to hear another girl remark, “That’s what her voice sounds like?”
I do know that Margareta made friends at preschool. She loved Bianca, and talked about her often. I’m not sure why it took her so long to open up to kids at school. Perhaps it was that most of the kids in her class were slightly older than her. I’ll never know. I just know that I miss my loud, talkative, often outrageous girl who could sometimes appear quiet as a mouse to others.
Submitted by Maria Kubitz in loving memory of her daughter, Margareta Kubitz.
by Maria Kubitz
“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens…”
My daughter, Margareta, never got to sing this song from the Sound of Music, but my guess is that she would have loved both the song and the movie. She died before she was old enough to see it. I was recently asked what things she liked while she was alive. So, with the catchy tune playing in my head, here are a few of Margareta’s “favorite things”. I’m quite certain this doesn’t nearly capture them all, and they are in no particular order.
Her Thumb
Margareta is in the midst of a long line of thumb-suckers. I have an ultrasound of her sucking her thumb in the womb. As soon as she got any sort of control over her hands, she started sucking her left thumb. No one was going to be able to get her to stop until she wanted to. No one.
Stuffed Animals
Just like all of my children, when Margareta was brought home from the hospital, her crib was lined with stuffed animals. Unlike any of my other children, Margareta was the only one who actually loved stuffed animals. She played with all of them, and had a knack for finding them in other people’s houses – especially households that didn’t have little kids in them. When she found them, she would gather all of them in one big pile, as if to have a stuffed animal conference.
Books
Margareta loved books to the point where she would sit and “read” them by herself in her room even though she didn’t know how to read. I read her three books at bedtime, and other times throughout the day. Books were so important to her that they could be used as motivation for getting her to do something she didn’t want to do. All I’d have to say is “No bedtime books if you don’t…” and she would immediately give in. She loved books so much I had to keep adding bookshelves in her room to hold her growing collection. She would sit patiently and listen to books that were written for children much older than her. After she died, her Aunt Cindy – who with her friends had built a school library for a Mayan community in Mexico – named it in honor of Margareta. It is called Biblioteca del Sol (Sol is her middle name). We think it is a wonderful way to honor her.
Chocolate
Actually, anything sweet would do, but chocolate was her favorite. Having two parents with major sweet tooths, she inherited that gene in full force. I’ve already written about her affinity for ice cream. We would use chocolate to bribe her on occasion. We used it in potty training and for getting her to stop crying when being dropped off at her new preschool. When she ate trail mix, I had to institute the rule of five raisins and nuts for every one M&M. On her third birthday, I made chocolate leaves on her cake which left such an impression on her that she asked for them for her fourth birthday cake.
Stealing George
George is a black gorilla. He belonged to her big brother Michael, who snuggled with George every night at bed time. Margareta took great delight in stealing George and hiding him from Michael. Michael was not very amused, but then again, isn’t annoying big brothers what little sisters do best?
Dress Up
Margareta LOVED playing dress up. We had a huge collection of costumes, but any clothes would do. Whether it be unusual combinations of her own clothes, dressing up in her brother Michael’s pajamas and soccer socks, or her latest favorite costume…Margareta would change clothes as often as she could. I think of it like a singer changing clothes between songs during a concert. The only problem was any clothes she took off would be left in a pile on her floor, which meant her room was constantly messy.
Puzzles
From an early age, Margareta became a master puzzle solver. She quickly became bored of the baby/toddler puzzles where you fit pieces into corresponding shapes, so I introduced basic jigsaw puzzles. To my amazement, I had to keep getting her harder and harder puzzles to do because she would figure out how to put them together so quickly. Her favorite puzzle was of an underwater scene with fish, octopus, jellyfish, lobster, etc. It was one of those large floor puzzles that was bigger than her.
Animals
Margareta loved animals with a passion. One of her favorite books was an Amazon animal alphabet book. She delighted in going to the zoo, and aside from spiders, she never seemed shy about approaching or petting animals no matter what kind. She would quietly watch the deer who came near our house for afternoon snacks or a drink of water in our pond. Margareta began naming the deer; usually nonsensical names that were hard for me to repeat, but I remember clearly one deer who had lost a hoof was endearingly named “Rock Star”. She also had a soft spot for dogs. No matter how big, she would want to pet them and talk to them. I remember our friend Jimmy telling a story at her memorial service that his son was amazed that she was brave enough to try to hug their dog, who was taller than she was. When asked, “Why isn’t she scared of him?”, Jimmy answered, “Her love for him is stronger than any fear she might feel”. I couldn’t have said it any better.
There are many more favorite things, but that will have to wait for “Her Favorite Things: Part 2”.
What are some of your loved one’s favorites? I’d love to hear.
Submitted by Maria Kubitz, in loving memory of her daughter, Margareta Kubitz.
by Maria Kubitz
Dear Margareta,
On September 1, you would have turned eight years old. It will be the fourth birthday we have to celebrate without you here to celebrate it with us. The fourth time we have to sing “Happy Birthday” while holding back the tears. After this month is over, you will have been gone longer than you were alive.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to live a long, full life. A life full of adventure. A life full of creativity and quirkiness. You were supposed to continue to surprise us with your choices and path in life. You were supposed to be my best friend and confidant. You were supposed to continue to challenge my status quo and widen my horizons. You were supposed to…
Whatever you were “supposed to do” was lost the day you died. My dreams for you will never come true. I am left sitting here holding my shattered dreams of raising a daughter. I kindly brush off the question, “Are you going to try for a girl?” when some stranger sees or hears I have four boys. I can’t bring myself to prolong the conversation by saying that I already have a daughter…because the pain that comes with that statement still feels like a knife was just stuck in my heart all over again.
Despite my continuing anguish over not having you by my side, you still continue to teach me each and every day. You have taught me a deeper appreciation of life than I could have ever imagined. Everything has more meaning now. The joy I have learned to feel again is that much sweeter. The love I feel is that much more profound. The respect I have for this earth and all its gifts is that much more substantial. I pause longer and savor the beauty around me more than I once did. And while the sadness and violence throughout this world can now be overwhelming and bring tears more easily, I feel more compassion than I did before because I now understand pain that transcends words to describe it.
I am no longer satisfied to just “survive” life as I once did. I am no longer able to just bury painful emotions and pretend that it will magically get better someday. I now truly understand that our lives require a lot of work, and we cannot just sit idly by and blame others and lament that they are not acting or being the way we need them to be. I have fully learned that only I am responsible for my own situation and path in life. That is not to say that I don’t still falter and fall back into old bad habits and thoughts. But now that I have seen this gift that is life so quickly taken away, I am compelled to keep moving forward whenever I stumble.
I look forward to your many signs and whispers to me every day. They not only remind me of your continuing presence and importance in my life; they keep me grounded in the moment. They keep me tuned to love. For if I have learned anything from both your life and your death, it is that love is always within us, around us, and the way through. I often hear other parents faced with the tremendous pain of losing a child ask, “How do I go on?” Many times, both I and others answer, “You just do. One day, or one moment, at a time.” But the real answer is love. Our love is what gets us through the darkest moments.
Margareta, it is through you that I’m able to fulfill a lifelong dream. Since I was a little girl, I’ve known that I want to help people. I’ve never quite known how, but here it is. I’m helping others through their grief by being honest about my own. I’m able to show others there is hope. I do this in your name and in your honor. With only four short years on this earth, you left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who knew you, but you weren’t able to make your mark on the world. Here is your mark. You are helping others make it through their darkest hours. And you’re leaving your mark through love and compassion.
Your light shines on, and it shines ever so brightly as it did while you were here with us. You truly are our sunshine, and I continue to bask in your loving light.
With all my love,
Mama
Written by Maria Kubitz for her daughter, Margareta Kubitz
This website was inspired by the memory of Margareta Sol Kubitz in hopes of helping others work through the pain of grief.