Being Patient: Marina, Kevin & Nessie Krim
“During that terrible time we knew that the three of us needed to make some ‘new’ family memories. We couldn’t just fall back into the old routines, activities and traditions of our former life, we needed to try out and explore new ones. Together we were inventing a new family life for ourselves. This is when ice skating came into the picture.” — Marina Krim
It was Nessie’s eighth birthday a few days ago. She had a big smile on her face the entire day and Kevin and I are really proud of that. This was Nessie’s fifth birthday without Lulu and Leo.
Before her siblings died, Nessie was the classic middle child — a spunky, mischievous ball of energy. She always brought the most laughs (and tantrums) to our household. She had the posture, pointy toes and grace of a ballerina and the flexibility, balance and fearlessness of a gymnast. I can vividly remember Kevin calling me one afternoon when Nessie was a toddler asking how our day was going and my answer, clearly feeling frustrated: “I will be great when Nessie finds a sport for herself.”
After a comment from Nessie’s grandmother about her athleticism, Lulu and I decided that Nessie was destined to be a great ice skater. Ironically, Nessie started out life very differently. She was diagnosed at birth with hip dysplasia. After corrective surgery at two months old, Nessie was in a series of awkward chest-to-ankles casts for many months. We couldn’t see her athletic tendencies then, but we saw Nessie’s smile and resiliency.
After the kids died, our new household seemed so quiet. It was just Nessie, Kevin and me. We were accustomed to a busy and loud household, bordering on complete chaos most of the time. Now, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. All the things that we used to know and do as a family felt radioactive. It was a very sad, complicated time.
Our biggest priority though was Nessie. And perhaps most troubling for us, Nessie had suddenly gone from being a classic middle child to our oldest and only child.
We realized early on that we needed to begin making new family memories as a family of three, not five, exploring family activities that we’d never done before. We had a ton of time on our hands. Maybe this was the moment to get Nessie on ice skates. We remembered what Lulu used to say: “Nessie, you are going to be an ice skater.”
So during the worst time in our lives, the three of us headed to the rink. On that first trip, Nessie learned to march around on her skates on her own and would even attempt little tricks. We realized that this family activity was here to stay. In the beginning, we’d skate together three or four times a week. For Kevin and me, the rink felt safe and therapeutic. It forced us to be present. For Nessie, it was a creative outlet. Once Nessie started taking lessons, we watched her go from wobbly to steady, her confidence and abilities slowly growing with each session. We didn’t miss the symbolism of the experience — each week, as Nessie slowly progressed on her ice skates, Kevin and I felt a tiny bit stronger emotionally. We were taking baby steps together.
We continue to watch Nessie blossom into a beautiful ice skater. And we can see how creativity has become important to Nessie. Creativity does not happen overnight. It requires patience, nurturing and practice. It’s a work in progress.
