Several weeks ago, we attended the funeral of a friend and although she had health problems all her life, her death came as a surprise. 43 is just too young. And she left a 7 year old daughter behind. My friend Daffy is currently dealing with a tragedy of her own, involving her sister who has a young child. My heart breaks for these children who have lost (or may lose) their moms and for the families involved. I can't imagine losing my mom at such a young age. Even now, my mom is my best friend. Where would I have been without her to guide me all those years? I know my life would have been drastically different. And the thought of leaving my own children behind makes my chest ache. Missing their first days of school, first crushes, graduations, weddings. Of course, there's all the big stuff, but the there's the little things, too. The hugs and sticky kisses, the handmade cards that stick to the envelope from all the glue. Wiggly teeth and dance classes. T-Ball and birthdays. The hysterical giggling over a ridiculous joke they made up. ("Why did the chicken cross the road? So he could have chicken nuggets!" -Insert hysterical laughter here-)
Hearing about losses like these make me contemplate my own mortality. If I were to die, what would my children remember about me? Would Nick remember us playing out front, me teaching him to ride his bike? Playing Candyland by his rules, playing army? Or would he remember all the time outs and yelling? Would Delaney remember playing "mom, dad and baby" or "doctor/dentister" with me? Would she remember the times we played dolls? Or would she just remember the times we fought and all the frustrated crying? Would Sam remember anything at all? What if my husband remarried? Would he marry Mary Poppins, or the Super Nanny? Or would he take the skanky, bleach blond with the inflated boobs he meets at a bar? How would she raise my children? Would they call her "mom"? Could I come back and haunt her?
I know that nothing is promised to us, that there is no guarantee that there will be a tomorrow. It makes me want to hug my children tightly to me. To hold on so tight, that they can't get away from me. I want to hold on so tight that time stops, and we're all together, forever, our happy little family, sticky kisses, frustrated crying and all.
And my heart breaks for you, Daffy and your family. Thinking of you and hoping for the best.