“Mom, I’m not like 4 ya know! Just get me on the tallest wall!”
Oh boy. So, he climbed. He climbed and climbed until he rang the loud old, bell. As I glared up, he smiled ear to ear. No fear. No care in the world. Climbing down, he’s shouting, “See Mom! Parents don’t know everything right?!”
I sometimes wish I had his courage. I wish I could revert back to childhood, where I only cared about hopping on my red Big Wheel, racing down the sidewalk with my pig-tails in the breeze. A simple life, like T, who wants a playdate all hours of the day, even if it’s 9:00 p.m. on a school night. His strength, a child’s strength, is just surreal to me. I want to fall to pieces sometimes because of the heavy grief, yet looking at him, I wonder, “How does he do it?” I believe it is because children simply live “in the now” and enjoy every bit of it. As adults, however, we know more of fear, worry and consequences.
I worry what will happen as he ages; will he remember B more, or less? I worry about making the family feel “complete,” as it once felt. Now, the holidays are approaching. Not an easy time for anyone in the grieving process. Heck, getting out of bed can be a tedious task at times, let alone sitting with large groups of people at holiday dinners. However, one learns to put worries aside. Faith teaches us B will be waiting to see us once again. Until that time, we will try to be more like T: Live loud in every moment and be courageous.
Where do you find courage?