Friday, November 14, 2008

I'll Be Damned If I Am Not Sad Again!

The question that was asked by my son, Z, and relayed to me by another parent, is this, "Why are so many people dying right now?" I am devastated! I don't know how to answer this. I dont' want to convey the wrong message. I do not spend my days curled up in a ball. I am just hurt by not being more able to help with his pain. So, I do the best I can by offering a little time alone. I go to my room a little early every so often and most of the time he follows me to bed. We talk about things. I try to listen without talking too much--very difficult for me, as you all well know. I want him not to be afraid. I am a little too afraid of many different things. I want him to feel secure. I tell myself fear is an emotion that parents display, because they want to keep their children safe. I know my fear is probably more than that. It comes from too much death and wondering when and where it might strike again. I am sad. Very sad.

This morning, before we could do much of anything, my husband, who is on his way to work, hollars back in the door that their is an ambulance at the 95, almost 96, year old neighbors house. She maybe be old, by year, but she is cool as hell! Yes, I know, I don't say things like that, but if you knew her...

At any rate, Z promptly put his coat and shoes on and went to the side of the house closest to the neighbors house and waited. He watched. He was intent on knowing whether she was or was not ok before he could move. Move at all. I did not know what to do, so I waited as well. I watched from time to time until I saw the stretcher come out with her in it and alive. I know that sounds crass, but the lights and whistles never did sound, as far as the amublance is concerned, so I was worried. My son brought that to my attention. I was in the kitchen telling the other kids that Mrs. F. has lived a long life and she is ready to go when God calls her, so to speak. I mean, noone wants to die, but noone really wants to start outliving their children either. The mere thought is upseting to me. I would miss her greatly, but she has had a long, wonderful life! She is a very interesting lady and I can talk to her as I talk to any of you! I would sorely miss that. Still, I am ok with her passing when the time comes.

I am getting off track, but what is new about this? NOTHING, I say! Anyway, I am worried about my son, so I call the school and talk to the counselor. She makes me feel a little better. I tell her his question to another mother and she says there will be pastors and/or priests available to all of the p.e. classes today, so that they can help with the grief and loss of the two girls who died this week and just to field questions that might arise. I asked her to prompt someone to bring up the particular question, so he and his friend, who happened to have the same question, will know that they are not alone and may even find some comfort in an answer, that I am unable to provide.

Sorry for the jumble of stress, but this is an extension of my being and by default it encompasses all of my crazy!

Scary, huh?


Snot Head said...

I am 19 and still asking that question. Why does it always seem to happen in groups? It's funny we were just talking about Mrs. F. I'm curious to see what the pator/priest has to answer that question, probably a line about "God's plans, not our plans" because no one really knows the answer to why people go in groups.

Marcia said...

Oh goodness. I am sorry for your son and for you. How can we explain the inexplicable? And still we try. We have to, don't we?

I know how you feel about your neighbor. Our next-door neighbor is 99 years old. Our homes were built in the '40's and she's the original owner! She did most of her own yard work when we first moved in here, apart from mowing the lawn. A few years ago she had a couple of falls and just hasn't been the same. I miss her like that and you know, often she talks about being ready to die. She's such a sweet, sweet lady. My 5-year-old calls her "Jones" instead of Mrs. Jones. It's so cute. My 8-year-old begged and begged me to buy her a dozen roses so she could give them to Mrs. Jones. How could I say no?

anyway, thinking about your son and his friend today. Hard, hard lessons.