Remembering You Through the Language We Shared

The phone rang – it was you, “Christine, do you remember your French? You were in the hospital. You were scared. Tu avais peur. I don’t remember now what you said next exactly, except that you felt “they” were hurting you. Ils me font du mal. My heart tightens and nose tickles with the memory. Mon cœur se serre et mon nez chatouille au souvenir.

It’s taken me some time to process everything. Your death was the first in a trifecta that would occur over the next 689 days or 1 année, 10 mois and 20 jours. I felt untethered when you died – Je me suis sentie détachée quand tu es morte. It’s hard to believe it has been four years now.

Remember how you used to go to the hair salon, Monsieur Marc? You loved to eavesdrop on all the French-speaking stylists gossiping about their clients. Tu aimais écouter aux portes pendent que le styliste francophone bavardait sur ses clients.

For some reason, you chose me to share this part of you, your love of French. I never thought about that until now that it was the one thing that was special to just you and I, not the others in the family.

As a baby, you sang “Frère Jacques” to me while brushing my hair, trying to get me to settle down and go to sleep. Frère Jacques, Frère Jacque, Dormez- Vous? Dormez-Vous? Sonnez les matines, Sonnez les matines, Ding, dang, dong, Ding, dang, dong… You had me speaking French before I knew I was speaking French.

You spoke often about your summers at Ecole Champlain Girls Camp up in Vermont and how you were only allowed to speak French the entire summer there. You loved riding – I have your ribbons and take care of the photos of you riding both at camp and in the city at the Park Avenue Armory. You loved jumping, bragging about how good you were – until you fell and the horse crashed down upon you. The horse broke your back – broke you. Le cheval t’a cassé le clos – t’a brise.

You and I butted heads a lot. Toi et moi, on s’est beaucoup disputés. You said I was stubborn. Tu as dit que j’etais têtu. You weren’t wrong. Tu n’avais pas tort.

I think you’d be very pleased that I have decided to “remember my French” so that I don’t lose that part of me – that part of you… cette partie de toi. These days, it is much easier to learn a language or brush up on one you learned in high school. The gamification of learning through apps like DuoLingo and Jumpspeak, which I use both to learn and practice, is something you would have enjoyed. I am at level 23 in French, which, according to their explanation, means I am currently learning content aligned with the high A1 level of CEFR. In plain English, it means I can chat a little with someone who is hopefully very patient - tres patient.

I’m also reading a book with parts of the text in French. I use this app called Prismatext, which has a big selection of books, best sellers, contemporary, classics…I’m reading all the Acorns on the Forest Floor. I feel like it’s a good way to practice what I have been learning. I know you loved your workbooks, but you would love the apps, too. Learning was a hobby for you. Apprendre était un passe-temps pour toi.

Sais-tu à quel point tu me manques? Do you know how much I miss you? Je viens de le douvrir moi-meme? I am just discovering it myself.

Remember you sent me away for 6 weeks – six semaines – to Europe. The first leg we were in Chamonix and then took a night train to Paris. You thought it would be good to send me away, you needed a break from your teenage daughter and didn’t want me to come home early you wanted me to have a chance to be submerged in the culture, practice my French and meet new people.

You remember Sarah, my college roommate – we met on that trip. We are still in touch, texting each other all the time. She lives in Paris and practice law. Her firm pays for her French tutoring. It’s nice knowing I have someone I can practice speaking with if I want. We encourage each other on DuoLingo, although she’s at level 50 or something. but I send her congratulations – felicitations – way to go – bravo, when I can.

Who knows, maybe one day I will go visit her and go back to France. Or I could drive five hours north to Quebec City, Canada. I realize the Québécois is slightly different than French in a number of ways, but it’s the closest thing to home --and I can drive there – et je peux y condruire.

J’aimerais que vous soyez ici – I wish you were here. Nos conversations me manquent. Te faire rire me manque. I miss our talks. I miss making you laugh. I hope you know how much I loved you – still love – the love never goes away. J’espère que tu sais combine je t’ai aimé -- je t’aime toujours - l’amour ne s’estompe jamais.

Thank you for everything – Merci pour tout.