Or a father, a son, a brother or sister…a spouse, a friend.
I know I live every day wondering how I’m breathing, but I am. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to face my life, my loss. But I do.
My five year old daughter asks me when she is getting another grandmother. I panic. I’m quiet, I search for the right response, the one that won’t break my tiny daughter. The answer that will leave her with some hope, the answer that protects her. Quietly, I realize the only answer is an honest one because through truth we can begin to move forward.
I cry, tears gently rolling down my face. My daughter asks me why my eyes are wet.
Finally…I say, “you won’t get another grandmother and I won’t get another Mommy. But you know what honey, I just think about how much I love you.” And softly as she drifts to sleep she says, “mommy, I’ll think about how much I love you.”
As an adult, I cannot comprehend death and dying. As an adult I face a child, the most important child in my life, my daughter. The love of my life, the life I created and I cannot find the words to comfort her…or quite honestly, myself. What is a mother supposed to do? I feel the immense pain of losing my mother and to simultaneously witness the pain of a young child and to watch a part of her innocence robbed, I wonder how I can make sense of it all. Should I even try? Because truth be told it’s an impossible task: to answer questions of life and death for a child that I cannot answer for myself. I grapple for answers, she grapples for answers. I feel a sense of hopelessness. I suppose this is life, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. Those words are not limited to marital vows, they span our life as children and as adults. All I can do in moments where we seek answers is to seek acceptance instead. Accepting our reality is not to say that we approve of it or like it but it’s our only chance if we want a chance to experience the best life’s got to offer and to survive the worst. Spiritually, philosophically, rationally…or in whatever way we, as a human being can.
Punched in the Face by Life 