Letters

Dad of the year suffered a loss in his family recently and, in my mind, the worst kind. The one that creeps up on you and surprises you with grief you didn't think you would have.  Or should I say, grief you didn't think you would need to work through before its time.  His lovely aunt died tragically in a car accident.  For all the quirks that made her the spunky woman she was, we will truly miss the light she brought to our lives.

And that brings me to death.  Yep, what a topic, right?  Well, we had to explain to daughter of the year No. 1 what was going on.  This was really the first person she knew and had recently spent time with who had died, so we were bracing ourselves for the worst.  She was calm and had lots of questions, which I expected from my super inquisitive kid.  She cried a little.  However, what shocked me most was that dad of the year just...sat...there.  While I know this was a hard loss for him, I guess I'd always thought we'd share these lessons together with our children.  I could tell he had no idea what to say.  None at all!  I was shocked.  After some tears and hugs and more questions, daughter of the year No. 1 seemed satisfied with our discussion and moved back to playing with her Nintendo DS.

This was the start of my roller coaster ride that would be the next few days.  If you hadn't guessed already, I'm sort of a quiet reflector.  I think about things...a lot!  However, the way I deal with grief and loss may be quite different than most and as far as I know, this goes all the way back to my childhood.

When I was very young, my great grandmother passed away.  Sure, some of you may never have met a great grandparent so you may be saying, what's the big deal?  Well let me tell you, the head of the family - a family like ours - it's a big deal.  When she died, traditions crumbled.  The house at the end of the lane went into disrepair.  And those big Christmas eve dinners were never quite the same.  God bless my grandmother for trying though.

Her death was my first experience with it and I remember my parents telling me what had happened and about the funeral.  I'd like to think I was somewhat like daughter of the year No. 1 and had lots of questions.  I don't really remember.  However, I do remember the one thing my parents never told me about death and that is that you get to see the body.  Oh boy.  Even to this day, just typing it makes my stomach knot up and feel all icky inside.  When we entered that funeral home and there she was.  Lifeless.  Gone.  I just wanted to run.  However, I did what good Catholic girls were supposed to do and I walked by the casket, appeared to pray, and quickly left.  Later, I sobbed as I knealt between my parents and I remember relatives assuming I was so very sad for this loss.  Nope.  I was terrified.  No one told me it would be like this! 

So, perhaps it is that experience that has shaped how I deal with these things in adulthood.  I believe I come off as cold...possibly uncaring.  But that isn't the case at all!  Oh believe me, I care.  I care more than even dad of the year could ever know.  And for someone like me who thinks and reflects as much as I do, it is both a blessing and a curse.  I never cried for dear aunt of the year.  However, I did imagine the terror she must have felt as she swerved on that day and lost control of her car.  I didn't look at her lifeless body, but I did imagine her embracing her parents in heaven that had gone before her long ago.

Instead, I prefer to celebrate those who remain with us, in spite of this very tragic loss.  The family members who are still here and do need our love and attention.  I've never understood how, in loss, people cut those they love the most completely out of their lives for a moment, maybe even a month or a year.  Perhaps I never will.  Maybe I just don't feel grief the way most others do.  It terrifies me most that I might be teaching my children to react the same way. 

While I know I am molding the people they will become, most of all I want to be completely honest about this very real and grown up part of life.  This, folks, is the part of parenthood that sucks, but it's part of the deal.  Someday I may even tell them to keep their memories for those are amazing things, but to never forget those living people who are still around them and need their love and attention.  I'm sure they won't understand, but I'd hope someday they would. 

So, after saying all of this, you can imagine my surprise at the letter daughter of the year No. 1 wrote today.  She grabbed a piece of paper and said to me, "Mom, do you know what I'm doing?" 

I honestly had no idea but she wanted me to guess.  After some clues, I knew she was writing to someone so I said, "You're writing to Santa." 

"No mom," she said, "I'm writing to God."

OK, I'll admit, that one floored me.  I quietly let her write her letter and helped spell a few words.  When it was done, she asked me to read it, and it was beautiful.  It made me realize for all the worrying I do in regard to whether or not I'm doing this whole mothering thing correctly, I must be doing something right.  And even though the way I deal with grief is quite different than most, I appreciate that she had a quiet way of respecting that I'm different.  But even more, I'm so very proud of the way she wrote her feelings on paper...for all the world to see.  Because I certainly don't know where she got THAT from.