Oh, My

It was a great evening.  I was feeling slightly more on top of life than usual, and the four of us were sitting down to a relaxed dinner that involved things sauteed, and jicama, which makes me giddy because it’s like a potato but totally not because it’s pronounced differently than it’s spelled, which makes it cool, and fancy cheese.  I’d made pie, even.  I MADE PIE.  Just for kicks.  ON A WEDNESDAY.  I was exhausted, and I had yet to shower, but I was happy.  We all were.

David and I were laughing about something–I don’t remember what it was, but trust me, it was fun-ee.  And then one of us mentioned my dad, offhand, in one of those “That’s totally something your dad would have done!”  ways.  And then, it just blurted out of my mouth.

“Oh.  I miss my dad.”

SK doesn’t miss a thing.

“Mom? Why do you miss your dad?”

Slight pause.  I was thinking.

“Because I can’t see him.”

“Why can’t you see him?”

Absolute silence from me and David.  Lots of frantic thinking.

“He doesn’t live here on earth, sweetie.  So I can’t see him.”

(We’ve talked about her two grandfathers living in heaven, so bear with me.)

“Oh, it’s okay.  You will see him.”

“I will?”

“Yes.  Don’t worry.  He will come here after work.”

I couldn’t talk.  I swear, it was the first time in my life I absolutely could not utter a word.  I looked at David.  Tears were in his eyes.  I tried not to cry.  Saoirse sat, looking at both of us, back and forth between our faces for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what had just happened.  Then she turned to her father.

“Dad?  You will stay here with us all the time.”

“Okay, Saoirse,” he replied.  “I will.”

4 thoughts on “Oh, My

  1. I’m still absolutely amazed at how your writing captures each of these parenting moments in such a way that I feel I am “living” them for the first time.

  2. It’s so hard to talk about death with them, isn’t it? My mother passed away last year, and she is still the number one writing topic for my nine-year-old in school. I guess we just keep on missing them.

    1. Dory, I’m so sorry. Does it get any easier to talk with them about it as they get older? Right now our oldest takes anything we say literally, which makes it hard. Doesn’t make it easier when there’re all the emotions involved–you’re right–but at the same time, it’s good to talk about them so the kids can know about or remember how awesome our parents are/were. Maybe it will get easier. Let’s check in with each other in about, say, 10 years or so…

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