Recently I drove up to Detroit to visit some family. It was just the McBabies and me as McHusband was out of town. We spent our few days there around the table of their own restaurants, gathering for six-hour dinners, loads of laughter, and more dirty jokes than I've heard in some time. The camaraderie was fun; corralling a 2-yr old McBaby #2 for that long in a crowded restaurant had its challenges. As he played intently with their "Please Wait to be Seated" sign, I realized from what a long line of creative and over-protective Mediterranean women I come. I was amazed at how many cleverly concocted ways they figured McBaby #2 could have injured himself on that seemingly-innocent little sign.
On the way home, McBaby #1 was begging me to read her book to her in the back seat. (Thankfully, she just started reading a bit on her own and a whole new world is opening up!) After my repeated responses that I couldn't read and drive at the same time, she was getting quite upset and bored in the back seat. In an effort to nip it in the bud, I expressed grave seriousness in saying that if I were to read, then get distracted, then hit another car, it could crash our car and we'd all be dead. I know, I know, a little graphic for a 4 year old. Hindsight is 20/20. The look of heartbreak on her face was unforgettable. Through tears, her sweet voice said "and Daddy would be all alone?" She started crying as she expressed the thought of her heart-broken daddy and, for the first time, I saw that she understood something about loss, something about letting go. And, then, so did I. I have early memories of grief and anxiety about potential loss - really, from her age. While I would love to spare her of this burden, it is part of one's growing - no different than teething, leg cramps, or McBaby #2's out-of-control hair.
My sweet friend (happy birthday to her today by the way!!!) at Message in a Mason Jar has posted so beautifully on her blog about this process of holding on and letting go, that I want to pass the baton to her as we continue on this thread. Click on the afore-mentioned link to head over there...
Sarah- It's such a sweet birthday gift that you linked from here! I actually thought of you when I was writing the post the other day, how you always get melancholy with birthdays. I'm feeling it this year, too, so this thing about marbles and orbits is helping me process old fears while Elliot is working through these thoughts for the first time. So bittersweet to know of Soren's process as well, and to think that she was mostly concerned not about dying herself but about her daddy being left alone. That's what I meant about what's left of the sting for us...the separation, the pause in relationship. I love working through these things with you, friend.
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My pleasure... hope your birthday was grand. I, too, am so thankful to process life with you!
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