I have been thinking a lot over the last week about my daughter Caitlin, whom we called Kiki, and also my first-born, my son Miles. And my thoughts keep being interrupted by a piece of music by Igor Stravinsky written during - for me - his most interesting period of composition.
That piece of music is Petroushka, a dance work written in 1911 for Di-arg-a-lev’s Ballet Ruse (Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes) and first performed in Paris in the heady artistic period leading up to World War I.
It is one of a triptych of folk-inspired compositions which made Stravinsky a sensation and marked him as a revolutionary and musical trail blazer. This trio of compositions for ballet began with The Firebird in 1910; in 1911 Petroushka was premiered, and in 1913 the third work, the still astounding and exhilarating Rite of Spring was first performed and booed off the stage.
What I love about Petroushka - and what relates to my thoughts about my children - is the mercurial opening of this piece. It moves through so many phases and moods, spinning on a musical note as the masterly Stravinsky could do so well.
Caitlin is invoked in the more mercurial moments such as the wonderful opening of Petroushka - the Shrovetide Fair. It portrays the excitement of a Russian carnival held just prior to Ash Wednesday and the beginning Lent.
A will-of-the-wisp flute melody opens the work. It darts and dashes, flits and flirts. It is interrupted by an insistent repetitive note motif calling ‘Listen to me!’ which is itself overtaken by a blaring orchestral theme - strident and a little harsh, but definitely strong and assertive.
The different musical elements in this opening compete against each other for the audience’s attention. Each is as compelling as the other, each is intrinsic to the other but also contrasting with the other, and the sound space is something to for an audience to revel in.
The chaotic exuberance of the opening of Petroushka is thrilling, joyful, fun, and invigorating ... Just as Caitlin could be when in full flight. Throughout the Shrovetide Fair, there are segments that are flirty, others that are lyrical, or whimsical; segments that hint at the impending doom of poor Petroushka, or are rhythmically-driven and inspired by Cossack dancing.
The blaring, repetitive motif was also her – insisting on her way... or no way! Especially with me where the stock-standard mother-daughter dynamics were always in play between the two of us - we are both stubborn and strong women.
There are many other moments in this wonderful opening in which I can picture, and hear, and sense my daughter in particular.
Like Petroushka, both my children were, and are, a masterwork; unique, and life-changing; never to be replicated; generally to be enjoyed; mostly to be cherished (when they would let me); but always to be loved passionately and without reservation, and oh so precious.
Caitlin may be gone, and I believe that she is in a happier place. While I regret far too many things at this stage of our bereavement I don’t regret that she has left the anguish and hopelessness she felt when engulfed by the black dog of depression.
She was allocated to this earth for a sum of years and that was her time. She would be amazed at how many people’s lives she has touched – the outpouring of grief at her death when still so young and full of promise has been almost hard to bear.
Perhaps her death is untimely and unfair, but I have to believe that it was meant to be, and that from it will come something greater and perhaps better. She will continue to inspire, and certainly to push me in directions I might have been previously reluctant to go. She has such a strong sense of social justice and fairness, I always thought she would become an advocate for some wonderful cause. But true to type, her effect will be long felt in my life although she is not here physically.
What I am trying to recapture at the moment is not the sick, despairing and illness-defying Caitlin that I don’t feel I ever came to grips with adequately.
It is the Petroushka Caitlin – the mercurial, lighting fast and fantastical Caitlin.
The Girl at the Carnival, enjoying what there is to offer, grabbing it with both hands.
The Girl that made the most of her beauty and tried so hard to use her talents when she was able.
The Girl who wrote such powerful diary entries, and lots of teenage angst. The one we loved and I cherished when I was allowed.
Caitlin didn’t have enough experience at 18 years of age to realise that life does get better – no matter how black. That it is not worth giving up the fight because eventually something will happen to change things. That there is always another door, another light ahead, and another person who will make a difference. I was in awe of her strength and resilience, and aware that she was so careful in looking after herself.
Somehow, we, the adults have to preserve our young people, against their own inexperience – keep them safe for long enough and love them deeply enough that they can go on, despite everything and learn to survive and even thrive.
I would like finally to thank the teachers at the Barrett School who have provided in effect the ‘wrap-around’ care for Caitlin that was promised by the Newman Government, but never eventuated. For 30 years, the school has been there, and I have seen how this group of staff have gone out of their way to help the latest and last group of young people, including Caitlin, who were resident at the Centre, to get better, to touch their potential and to glimpse their self worth.
In that group but medical rather than teaching I include Georgia, Caitlin’s psychologist for the three years she was resident at The Barrett Adolescent Centre, of which the School was a part. Like me, Georgia hoped that she and Caitlin had reached a point where, as Georgia put it, Caitlin was convinced that the journey would be worth it in the long run. Caitlin continued to fight her demons with Georgia’s help after she left Barrett and Georgia remains a strong influence on the many people she has worked so intensively with which is a big responsibility and I wish her all strength.
Thank you also to Emma at Burke St Clinic who listened to me, the unquiet voice, and stayed in contact with Caitlin, and tried to visit her at home when she was unresponsive and particularly unwell.
Phoenix House where Caitlin lived for a time also deserves a mention. It was such an achievement for her to be able to live there and then, with their support to move into her own flat with Em. The confidence and encouragement, and sheer teenage fun Phoenix House staff provided to the residents there was hugely appreciated and continues.
Thank you for coming and please stay in touch – you will keep her memory alive for me.
Justine, 14 August 2014