Wednesday, March 25, 2009


My middling cried tonight.

Next year the eldest goes to middle school. Different school times, different bus schedule. For some reason, this just occurred to my middling. She'll be riding the bus alone next year. It hurts in my chest to think that Henry would have been on the bus with her this fall, entering Kindergarten.

"Will I ever see her again?" she mumbled, big tears on her cheeks.

"Of course, honey, she'll just leave and get home a little earlier than you." This didn't console her much. My answers didn't seem to fit her questions, but a lot always goes on in her head that doesn't make it out of her mouth, and it took me a while to realize that she had moved on to worrying about adulthood.

"When she moves away, will I ever see her again?"

We talked about grown-up sisters, and how special Sister Smak is to me, and about aunts and uncles and cousins, and that seemed to help. I avoided the word "brother", maybe cowardly of me? It was certainly on my mind, and likely on hers as well.

I miss him so desperately. She feels his loss too, and I'm sad that she's scared of losing more. Then again, so am I.


...tom... said...


Not to go all 'grammar-ish' on ya . . .but they were probably real tears opposed to 'crocodile tears'. But small point.

Simon Critchley in The Book of Dead Philosophers notes that learning to not worry about death for oneself might be the best way to live.

But he also notes:
"... the aspect of death that is hardest to endure is not our own death, but the death of those we love. It is the deaths of those we are bound to in love that undo us, that unstitch our carefully tailored suit of self, that unmake whatever meaning we have made. is only in grief that we become most truly ourselves. (That is, to acknowledge) that part of ourselves that we have irretrievably lost."

I think you are right there at this moment.

The book can be a tough read. But if you have a historical bent, or a need or desire to try to understand death 'better' (if that is possible) it is an interesting read.

Anyway, sorry to be so depressing...


FrankandMary said...

There is nothing cowardly about you. Nothing. ~Mary

Sybil said...

Coward, you, never.
I am sory you had such a night but it was sure to come out one way or another...I am only glad you were there to help her work things out in her wee mind.
Much Love Sybil

Dr. Smak said...

...tom...thanks for the grammar spanking. :)


radioactive girl said...

I can relate to the things going on in the head that don't make it out of the mouth. My kids have a hard time figuring out how to ask what they need to ask in order to get the answers to what they are really thinking. It makes twice as much work for me, first trying to figure out what they actually want to know, and second finding a way to answer that while being truthful and also not too scary.

You are the exact opposite of a coward, and I think you did an awesome job of answering and reassuring.