The other night we decided to go out for dinner. We were
getting ready and my son asked if Emmy was going. He asked if Emmy was going.
I told him no and asked if he remembered that she lives in
God’s house. He said he did and then went to play. I went to another room and
cried. For that one little second, Emmy was here. But she isn’t. I wonder how
many times I am going to have to keep “breaking” the news to my kids. Sometimes
they look sad, sometimes they just say okay and move on.
What a horrible thing to have to keep going through. Not for
me, for them. They don’t have the deep emotional connection that I have to her,
but over and over again I am going to have to tell them that she isn’t here. I
know over time that the questions will stop. Their memory is fading. I can see
it. It is almost like there is a giant eraser that is rubbing away at what
memories they have. That’s not fair.
I’ll say it again, THAT’S NOT FAIR! I can’t
change that and that hurts.
Those two babies, whether they understand or not, have lost
so much this year. First their cat, then a lot of fish (by the way did you know
that the potty water goes to the water treatment plant and then directly to God’s
pond?) It makes sense to them. They lost their Emmy and they are about to lose
one of their dogs. They have had to adjust to my sadness. I wish I could hide
it better. This isn’t their fault. I have great kids and they help me more than
I ever thought they could. My son gives the best hugs and he seems to see
exactly what is going on. He will sit in my lap on those bad days and talk
about the things he loves to talk about. He can move me on. May daughter brings
me Kleenex and a blanket because to her, a blanket fixes everything.
Luckily, those days are getting farther and farther apart. I
am glad because laughter is starting to come back. It has always been here, it
is just that things haven’t been as funny.
Yes, my kids are my gifts. Where would I be without them?
They yell, scream, cry, laugh and talk their way through their lives. They are
passionate babies with very distinct personalities. They are peas and carrots
but occasionally they are oil and water. At school the other day I was reading
what my kids said they were thankful for. My son said his family, his two dogs
(he has three) and his weather books. My daughter said she was thankful for her
dogs and cats (we don’t have any cats) and her brother who she loves more than
ice cream. Isn’t that just sweet? The catch here, she doesn’t like ice cream.
It made me laugh.
My daughter is the singer and can turn any sentence into a
song. She has the sweetest voice I have ever heard. My son is the comedian. He
thinks it is neat to pee in the backyard, pretend he is a cheetah baby and he
loves to dip all of his fruit into ketchup. He likes to get a laugh out of
people. His memory is amazing. He can tell you something that happened last year
but he can’t remember to put his underwear on with the tag in the back. My
daughter lines up her shoes, tries to match her clothes and loves to give
instructions. She is a girly girl. They have my heart.
I have been searching for something that can lift me out of
this ditch I feel like I have been in for so long. I have looked everywhere,
thought of everything but I just haven’t been able to come up with any
solutions. I have been looking too far away. I believe that the answer has been
living in my house this whole time. My
kids.
“Be a good mother.” That’s what my mom told me to do. I
heard the words but I have lost sight of them. I’m not saying that I am a bad
mom. I actually think I am a little better than average. What I am saying is
that my focus hasn’t been on fulfilling my mom’s wishes for me. I have been too
wrapped up in my own misery to see anything outside. Sure I beg you for
donations, I am working on a hobby/business, I cook and do all the other stuff
I normally do. I think those are all things that I do partly because I have to
and partly because I need to. I have been so self-centered that I am failing to
do those things because I want to. I gotta change that.
My babies don’t deserve to have a mom who goes through the
motions. They deserve a mom who is doing it because she is honored to and
because she realizes what true miracles they are. I want to be that mom. I
think my mom would want that too.
All of my life I have loved hearing my mom tell me she was
proud of me. I can’t say that I have accomplished a lot, but my mom knew that
each thing I did was big. She didn’t always tell me she was proud, but I knew
it. She just had a way. She isn’t here to give me that look or to tell me how
proud she is. That’s ok, really it isn’t but I am going to keep telling myself
that it is. It is my turn to step up and let my kids know how proud I am of
them. I do it often, but now that I have slapped myself, I see that I need to
let them know that I mean it.
I have made some progress here I think. The real test will
be to see if I can carry out my revelation. That is always the hard part
because when I write, the solutions seem clearer than they do in real life. I’m
trying though.
Is this how most people get through tragic events? Or am I
just making a mountain out of a molehill? Whatever the answer, this is the path
I have chosen to go down and as long as the light bulb keeps flickering, I’m
going to keep going. Someday that light is going to shine bright and steady. That
will be a great day.
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