Mary Rockefeller Morgan - When Grief Calls Forth the Healing

Mary R. Morgan

Mary and Michael, Washington, D.C., 1941

(photo Lena G. Towsley)

A FEW WORDS ABOUT THE BOOK

So many people are shattered by deep personal grief, by the unique and often unacknowledged experiences of their loss, and by the misunderstood depth and length of their bereavements. The death of my twin brother, Michael, and the different ways I experienced the absence of him in my life created a deep sense of inner loneliness and outer separation. This memoir recounts that journey of disconnection, and the slow process of putting the pieces of myself back together within the discovery of new connections, and of making a new relationship to both myself and, finally, to my twin brother.

I tell my story in hopes of touching the inconsolably bereaved and of breaking the isolation that surrounds those who have lost a loved one. In sharing the experience of my own twin bereavement, I want to touch the place where other twinless twins are torn from their intrinsic sense of who they are and of how they experience themselves in their lives. I try to shed light on the special challenges they face in their healing journeys.

My own bereavement was unnecessarily long and protracted. Especially as a twin, I found no healing in separation. In making new connections, we break the isolation. Sharing our experiences with others, we form community. Our arms make a circle that can hold the loss, allowing it to be met in safety, allowing for understanding, for listening, for being heard, for being present. In connection, we can bear witness to the necessary process of falling apart and the small steps of coming back together into new form and into new life. By writing and sharing this book, I take my place and invite you into a larger circle of healing connection.

This book is written in loving memory
of my twin brother, Michael.

What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.

T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding

MISSING SON OF GOVERNOR ROCKEFELLER DECLARED DEAD

On February 1, 1964, the New York Westchester County Court declared that Michael C. Rockefeller, 23-year-old anthropologist and youngest son of New York Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller, died by drowning on November 19, 1961, off the coast of Dutch New Guinea.

The decision was handed down by Surrogate Court Judge Harry G. Herman. Witness testimony was supported by a Dutch certificate of death, issued April 19, 1962, and by a death certificate issued by the American Foreign Service at Sydney, Australia, June 13, 1962.

Michael Rockefeller disappeared on November 19, 1961, after attempting to swim ashore from a capsized boat off the Asmat coast. The Dutch and Australian navies and local government and populace mounted an exhaustive and ultimately fruitless search along 150 miles of shore and swamp-filled jungle.

Shortly after receiving word of his sons disappearance on November 19, Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller and his daughter Mary, Michaels twin sister, flew to New Guinea to join the search. Rockefeller returned to the United States on November 29, the governor announcing the termination of the mission and that the family was hoping for a miracle.

Michael C. Rockefeller was born and raised in New York City. He graduated from the Buckley School and Phillips Exeter Academy, and in 1960 from Harvard University with a BA degree in history and economics. After finishing college, he completed basic training at Fort Dix as a member of the U.S. Army Reserves.

In March 1961, Michael joined the Harvard-Peabody Expedition in the Balim Valley, New Guinea, as sound recorder for the film Dead Birds. After its completion, he embarked on two trips through the jungles of the Asmat coast to collect Asmat sculpture for the New York Museum of Primitive Art, of which he was a trustee. He lost his life toward the end of his second trip.

In a tribute to his son, Governor Rockefeller said, Michael had never been happier than in the nine months he spent in New Guinea. He has always loved people and been loved by them. He had tremendous enthusiasm and drive and loved life and beauty in people, in art, and in nature .

Besides his father, Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller, and twin sister Mary R. Strawbridge, Michael is survived by his mother, Mary C. Rockefeller of New York City; his two brothers, Rodman C. Rockefeller and Steven C. Rockefeller, also of New York City; and his sister Ann R. Pierson of Chicago.

PART ONE

The Search

CHAPTER ONE

We are in that place of floating again. Tiny arms are holding me. I am holding, too. We are swaying, moved by a gentle breathing seanew, entwined beings as big as everything, existence held in our armsthe beginning of an I held in a frame of we.

Now I reach that place with my tears. I know my tears belong to the deep. I am drawn to pour them back into the vastness. Darkness folds the roughened water. There are no arms to hold me. My heart will burst with the pain of releasing. I will drown in the empty sea.

~

The sea change began one day in November 1961. I remember the moment before. A window in the corner of my parents living room drew my attention. A windblown branch from an azalea bush scratched the surface of the glass, making a discordant soundan intermittent squeaking. The branch had strayed way past its sculpted boundary. Why hadnt my mother had it pruned?

My father stands out clearly, his figure powerful and solid next to the soft, down-pillowed sofa, his face squared off by his right-angled jaw. By the window, my two brothers and I are clustered around my mother, wary, and watching him. His arrival and bold presence had pushed our little group away and drawn us together. Why had he come? Why had he asked us to meet?

As it was a Sunday, we were gathered at our country home in Pocantico Hills, New York. It was barely two months since Father had separated from our mother. And just days before, hed called a press conference, choosing to publicly expose his affair and announce his decision to remarry. My brothers and I were still reeling from the family fracture, trying to make sense of our own feelings, trying to support our mother.

Father held a yellow cablegram in his hand. He extended it toward us as if to give reality to his words.

I have troubling news: This morning, the State Department wired me. I just finished talking to them at Uncle Davids. They received word from the Dutch government in New Guinea; they dont know the specifics yet, but Mike is missing.

Missing The s sound. Like a thin knife, it slipped deep inside me. No resistance, just a sharp, knowing pain and then shimmering silence. I could feel the shimmering spread, numbing any feeling or sensation. I watched myself retreat from the others.