Unexpected Child Moment #564

Just remember I love you, and it will be all right,

Just remember I love you more than I can say.

--"Just Remember I Love You," Firefall

It was bedtime, on a night like any other night. Which means that, as usual, there was major stalling going on.  This evening's particular stalling involved Anna taking numerous pictures of me with my cell phone.  Then we took funny pictures together.  And then it was really bedtime.

As we lay snuggling, she turns to me and says, "Do you know why I took all those pictures of you?"

"No, why?" I say, waiting for something hilarious.

"Because I want lots of pictures of you for when you're gone."

What?

I thought we were just having fun....

"I'm never gone for long, honey, and you know I always come back! But you can have all the pictures you want.  Are you ready for me to read Harry Potter now?" I ask hopefully, grabbing the book, yet fearing we aren't talking about the same kind of "gone."

Bawling ensues. "My favorite thing in the world is your pretty face. And - and -I won't be able to touch your pretty face when you're dead."  Tears are streaming down her sweet little cheeks.  If there were music, it would have screeched to a halt. I think being called pretty and talking about my eventual death were almost equally surprising.

"Where is this coming from, honey? I'm right here. Everything is okay. I don't plan on going anywhere for a long time." I mean, I am turning 37 next month, but that's not that old.  Unless you're 5, I guess.

She reminds me that I have said nobody knows when that time will come for them, that that is up to God. Great job, me, I think.

"That's true, but I am still young and hopefully I will be around for a long, long time. Don't worry." I remind her that I am trying to be healthier and take better care of myself these days. I'm going to the gym again and I have healthy fruit shakes for two meals a day. That's gotta buy me at least a few extra years, right?

She isn't consoled.  Then I tell her that longevity runs in my family. "My Grandma will be 88 this August. And her mother lived to be about 93! So that's good. Hopefully I'll live to be very old too."

"But I don't want you to be that old and wrinkly! Wrinkles kind of scare me," she says, still sniffling.

Crap. Mindful of the lines starting to appear on my face, I make a mental note to buy some sort of cool, youth-restoring face product at Origins with the birthday coupon I just got.

"It'll be a long time before I'm that old, honey. I will always be here for you, though, and I will always be in your heart. It's just like the song we sing to each other every day - Just remember I love you, and it'll be all right, Just remember I love you more than I can say."

That always brings a smile to my face, thinking of our morning ritual.  Each day before I leave, I stand outside in the driveway, coffee mug and car keys in hand, and she scrambles up on the table, lowers the kitchen window, and we sing these two lines to each other.  I look for her smile, but she seems tentative.

"It's okay, honey, you really don't have to worry about this now."

She buries her face in our soft owl pillow, crying anew. "But I won't ever be able to be happy without you with me, next to me, to hold me and talk to me and kiss me and play with me and draw me things and stuff. I'll never be happy ever again!"

I give her the biggest hug ever. I just hold her and rock her in my arms for a bit, and then gently explain that unfortunately, I know what it is like to lose someone you love very much. And that it does hurt, but in time, it does get easier and you can still be happy.

"There are all sorts of funny things you can remember that will make you laugh. There are pictures, and videos-"

"I don't have any videos of you!" Her chest is heaving. I can't win. I'm starting to wonder if she knows something I don't, given her degree of anguish. It's slightly creepy to focus on my hypothetical death this much.

"There are videos, honey. And we can make lots more.  But what I am saying is that after awhile, you will feel more happy than sad," I explain. "Trust me, because I know.  Besides, I want you to be happy. I want you to have a great life and go to college and have a family or whatever it is you want to do. And I'll be watching to make sure you do it!"

"No you won't - you won't be able to see me, and you'll be happy because you'll be with Ken."

By this time, I am at a loss. I gaze at her, amazed.  Seriously, kid, are you really only 5??

All I can do is explain that I believe I will be able to see her, and I believe in guardian angels.  One day she will understand that I'll be in her heart forever. I try to make sure she knows there's no place I'd rather be than here with her. And then I say a silent prayer to make it at least till 80 or something.

Then I dry her eyes and remind her she doesn't have to worry about this now. "I'm right here," I tell her, putting her hand on my cheek.  "See, you can touch my face. You can snuggle with me. I'm right next to you. You're young. I'm young.  Don't be upset, sweetheart."

After repeating these things several times, she finally lets me read her some Harry Potter - we are just getting to the good part of book 3.  It only takes a few pages for her to pass out. I finally let myself relax a bit, now that we're not talking about my eventual demise anymore.

The only explanation I can come up with is that two friends of Anna's have moved to other states in recent months, and Anna had just drawn a picture to send one of them so they could be pen pals. I guess in her mind, maybe "dead" isn't that far of a leap from "moved away."

Thus concludes another random moment, one of many more curve balls of parenthood to come. You never know when your kids will hit you with these things, so you can never really be prepared.

That's been one of the hardest parts of parenthood for me, I think - in my career, I am trained to be ultra-prepared.  Sometimes I get surprised, but most of the time, I can anticipate what is coming and how I will deal with it. Preparation is everything.

But life with a five-year-old isn't that way. I guess all any of us can do is roll with it, and do the best we can with these amazing little people we're lucky to call ours.  There's no greater challenge, and no greater love.  It's an adventure, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

So if you're tired of the same old story,

Turn some pages,

I'll be here when you are ready

To roll with the changes

--"Roll with the Changes," REO Speedwagon