Wordless Wednesday – My Family
Without whom I would be lost. So thankful for you both.
All in the Details – For Layla Grace
My circle of friends on twitter is in pain today. For months we’ve all been watching, waiting and praying that a little girl with cancer would beat the odds. For about the last month, we knew she was going to lose her battle. Today, a sweet little girl, not much older than my Ava has flown away to be with angels.
I chose not to follow updates from her parents. Too fresh on the heels of Maddie’s passing and dealing with Ava’s own issues, I felt it was too much for me to handle. I come off as a real asshole a lot of the time, but since having a child, I’m a big old softie when it comes to kids. I still tear up thinking about Maddie. I don’t know if that will ever change.
Many of my friends do follow Layla Grace. Through their updates, I was seeing the down hill progression anyway. Some days I would close Twitter altogether, shut down Facebook and log off. Too much. Too much pain.
Today in the course of discussing our shared grief, my friend Becky asked this question:
I started thinking about that. Why did I have to excuse myself to the restroom and lay my head on the cool wall while I cried and sobbed after hearing Layla had passed away? Why did Maddie’s passing hit me so hard? It’s not just that as a mother, I can empathize with the fear and heartache. But with blogs and Twitter, we are afforded a glimpse into the daily lives of people in a way that we’ve never experienced before. We see the big things, jobs, houses, marriages, divorces, birth, and death. But we see all the little things in between. Things that normally we would only know about someone if we knew them in real life.
We hear about how a day is spent. We read about likes and dislikes of minute things. We learn about favorite colors, hated foods. What makes someone smile. The kind of music enjoyed. The details. The details that make us all unique. The details that, when all put together, form a picture of a person that allows us to be drawn in. The details that make us feel the person we are reading about is familiar. We begin to care. We even begin to love.
So truly, is it any wonder then, that as a community we grieve so hard for people we never actually laid eyes on, never touched, never spoken to. We don’t need those things to form a bond or develop emotions.
We will all remember and grieve in our own ways. For me, writing is what I do. I examine, I process, I think.
Today I am thinking about Layla Grace and her family. I wish for peace and comfort. I pray that this is the last time I have to wish for that.
Soar high and free, Layla. Your pain and suffering on this earth are at an end. May the sun always shine on your face and you feel nothing but love and joy in the next life.
Not Building Back The Wall
To be honest, I really don’t know how to start with this one. I do know that I am upset. I am hurt. Once again drama has reared its head. I swear to God, I don’t go consciously looking for it.
You would think after being burned so badly in the past, I’d be slower to take down my defenses. In a lot of cases, I am. However, every so often someone comes along and they just have a way of making you feel comfortable. So you share. You share intimate details of your life. You exchange histories. You talk about the deep dark thoughts you have. You talk about your fears, your hopes. You feel a kinship. The human experience only has so many variances and you discover that you share many of them.
And then. Something said in private becomes a public matter. Maybe not in an overt way, but to those who share the secret knowledge it’s clear.
From there on, you feel you must censor what you say, lest it be the next joke for someone to get a laugh. For a while you say nothing. Unsure of yourself, because now you are questioning your own judgment. You feel you are being asked to keep secrets from the people closest to you in this world, except for your spouse. You feel guilt. And then you realize that the situation you are in was not of your making. You didn’t make private matters public. You kept the confidences that were so generously gifted to you.
And yet the part that bothers you the most is how you felt as though you were being asked to choose. Choose between loyalty to a new friend and loyalty to the friends that have held your hand through your darkest hours. Friends that no matter if you went 2 hours or 2 days without speaking to, would still be your closest friends.
That’s where my line in the sand was drawn. To be honest, I had thought about a second chance. I mean, everybody makes mistakes and I am certainly no stranger to them. But asking me to lie to my best friends was a line I cannot and will not cross.
So I will put this in the “Lessons Learned About Online Friendships” file. I will be careful to whom I spill secrets in the future. I will be more aware that just because I have some things in common with someone, it does not mean that they will always behave the way I would, or would wish them to do.
My walls aren’t any taller. But at least one brick is going back in.
Dear Avacakes
Dear Avacakes,
Today isn’t your birthday, your half birthday or anything of the sort. However, I just felt the need to write you this letter today. You see, you are growing up and changing so fast it is hard to keep up with all that you do. I want to freeze time and I want every silly thing you do to be ingrained in my memory forever.
Last night I bought you a potty chair. It completely freaked me out. It is such a huge step forward in independence for you. I know in 15 years you will read this and your eyes will roll into the back of your head as you say “Mom!” But right now, you are still my sweet baby girl. The sweet girl who puckers her lips with a goofy half grin when asked for a kiss. You willingly come over and throw your arms around me when I ask you for a hug. Once in a great while you will do those things without prompting. And when you do? Oh, how you melt my heart.
I love the nightly routine we have somehow fallen into. We get home from Gramma’s house and fix (or unwrap) dinner. We all sit at the table, you in your big girl booster seat. At least two dozen times during dinner I will have to stop and clean your hands. Which, ahem, would not get so dirty if you would consent to using a fork or spoon a bit more often. Also, not content to drink from your own cup, Daddy will have to share his cup of water with you, him holding while you take a few gulps, sometimes ending up with an ice cube to the face in your exuberance to tip the cup back. You also find the food on my plate far more interesting that what is on your own, even when it’s the same thing.
Eventually, though, we do get done with mealtime. If it’s bath night, generally speaking, you have already taken that bath while Mommy made dinner. I enjoy the sounds of laughter and splashing as I race around the kitchen. After dinner is jammy time. You head to Mommy and Daddy’s room, where you slip into warm, soft jammies. That task completed, it’s time for the final activity of the night; a cuddle on the bed with Mommy and Daddy, with your two best blankets, of course. We settle in and watch a few minutes of your current favorite show, Caillou. You rock back and forth to the theme song, flinging your arms out wide at the end, just like Caillou does. Then you settle back, cuddled against your parent of choice for the evening and watch one story. When it’s over, we turn the television off and you grasp your blankets tightly and head down the hall to your room. You know it is night- night time. One of us picks you and cradles you in our arms. We both kiss you, whisper softly to you, instructing you to have a good night and only pleasant dreams. Sometimes I sing “You Are My Sunshine”, depending on your readiness for your bed. We put you in your crib, turn down the light and say one last “I love you” as we close your door.
Most nights you fall asleep rather quickly. All we hear is a few rustles through the monitor as you get comfortable. Some nights we hear Ava-speak. Bababa. Dadada. Yeaaaaaaah. Hiiiiiiiiii! It doesn’t last long. Soon you are sound asleep; the only sounds to be heard are the soft breaths you take.
That is a typical evening with you, Avacakes. Of course I left out the tantrum you had because you didn’t get your hand cleaned quickly enough. I didn’t mention the meltdown that ensued because I wouldn’t let you empty the fridge door shelves. I never even think about how mad you get when I won’t turn on the Veevee (TV) until after dinner. And honestly? All those things are ok. They are all part of this journey you are on. I feel so blessed to be along for it. But please don’t grow up too fast. Your mommy needs so many more hugs and kisses.
Love,
Mommy
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