I'm trying to wrap my mind around this concept, but it feels messy. I apologize in advance for the disorganization I anticipate. It's not a pretty or pleasant experience.
Our lives have involved an average of a funeral every other month for a while now. Only half of them were grandparents to anyone, and three of them involve cancer. Two of them are peers, and three of them were very beloved. Not pretty. Not pleasant.
Growing up, my mother claimed to talk to us like adults from the start. She didn't believe in baby talk, and I never developed a talent for (or interest in) baby talk myself. I only have one style of speaking, and my daughter has inherited it. Most people say she talks like a mini adult. Recently, a relative described her as "talking like a little old lady." I'm still trying to process that one as a compliment . . . It was intended as one.
In the midst of very difficult events, not limited to these deaths, I have struggled with how to talk with M about everything. Most adults, I think, would gloss over things, minimize the pain, and try to pretend all is well. I cannot do that. I'm not sure I even want to do that.
I picture kid gloves as white - like the ones you might see in a dust testing situation. They don't go well with black. While I admire that the widow wore a bright dress, as I have seen others choose to do, I wear black many days right now. Kid gloves simply don't go. Besides, I don't like wearing gloves unless it's winter.
I have led a life full of pain and loss. I don't wish those experiences on others, yet I would not give back what I have gained through those experiences. I am a better person than I was before them. In experiencing all of these things at a tender age, we don't want to rob M of the benefits that can be gained. We wish none of those people had died recently, but we don't want to miss the value in the circumstances, either.
Tonight, my husband gave me a compliment that was bigger than he realized. We are grieving. We are messy. I often feel bad that M is going through this with us at her young age. However, my husband said, "She's learning. This will serve us well in the long run. We aren't hiding." He's right.
My biggest struggle right now is accepting that an amazing boy is now the man of the house. He is ten years old. His father was amazing. His father helped me grow in amazing ways and taught so many people what love looks like every day.
I don't like people saying that someone is too young to die. I have lost peers at ages 16 & 21, so most don't really compare to too young in that sense. However, I have become my own irritating example. They are too young. The father was too young to die. The son is too young to lose his father. It's real, though. He is dead.
Watching M process this has taught me, as well. Again. She is amazing. She cried with me and said, "This will really affect his whole life. . . losing his dad at this age." She is right. She is sympathetic. She has always been drawn to this boy, so the connection seems stronger.
A few weeks ago, I had confirmation that pathological grief is commonly brought on by less than we have experienced in the last year. No, we don't have it. Not now, anyway. Life is messy. Our home is not functioning well. M can see it. Even if we tried to hide it, she would know. I choose to be deliberate about the experience. I will do my best to help her be deliberate in processing this series of events.
Recently, M is very careful. She asks for permission far more often than is necessary. She is quieter than usual. She is getting her responsibilities done earlier than usual. When she makes a mistake, she is harder on herself than before. She is treating us with kid gloves, I think.
In another recent conversation, I told her I wished I was more patient. Citing some past struggles that we did not know were related to her vision, I expressed regret at my past approach. She reassured me quickly and earnestly. She pointed out that we got it done, and that I could not have known earlier. She is so wise and kind.
I am unsure if M is emotionally capable of working through these recent events. She is intellectually capable of sorting through it, but she is young. One of the challenges of being an intelligent child strikes again. She is asymmetrically developed, and that requires some guesswork. When I cannot get through a day without crying multiple times, my guesswork gets shoddy. I apologize a lot. I will work through this with her and hope that in the future, she looks back and feels as I do - not wishing the experience on anyone, but not willing to give up what she gained in her character. Please pray that I am successful in this.
The blessing in the experience is a very solid realization of the support we now have. It has shown up in greater force and multitude than I expected. That is such an encouragement and relief! I am so thankful . . .
Peace and health to you and yours. And a fabulous support network! Thank you again to mine and ours!
