My 4 year old has been breaking down quite a bit lately. When his dad leaves for work, he’ll go into the ugly cute cry saying, “Daddy, I’ll miss you.” Or when I lay with him before bed, sometimes he’ll go into the same ugly cute cry, saying, “I don’t want you to die.”
After we finished dinner, it happened again. It caught me off guard. So I asked his older brother, “Do you worry about this too?” He said that he did. I then asked, “Does it get you this upset?” He responded, ” No.”
At that moment, my 4 year old came back in the room, still crying. I tried and I try to make him understand that I won’t die (hopefully) for a long time. I said, “Dion, I was almost 40 when my mom died. I had a long time with her.”
These conversations of mine and my husband’s deaths had carried on for quite some time prior to this. I told my oldest to get his backpack ready for school and I cleared the table. When I noticed something wasn’t right with him, I approached him and said, “Are you ok?” He then proceeded to have a meltdown. “I miss Grandma.”
Of course, as I hug him tightly and give him kisses, I’m beginning to sob. I miss her too. So freakin’ much it takes my breath away. I know exactly what he’s feeling and I can’t make it better. I hide my own tears as best I can, as I put them to bed, my heart so heavy.
Meanwhile, my dad, their papa, my only parent alive, their only grandparent beside my step mom, that is in their life, is currently on the way to ER. He’s not eating, he’s lethargic, his stomach hurts, and he’s recuperating from 2 surgeries the past week.
Death is never convenient. But tonight I’ve decided losing my dad, their papa, is not going to fucking work for me.
K!
Life is hard.
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