It is when you find out that someone in your family is dying that you begin to look around and appreciate what you have. Here. Now. Not that I am close to this person. In fact, I may have met her only once or twice in my life. But she means something to my family members. An aunt that will lose her niece. A cousin that will lose his cousin. A daughter that will lose her mother. A battle that will be won by cancer, once again. So, this week, I began to look around at what I have in my life and what I didn't have. I declared myself as a winner, with a good life. I am not religious, never have been, never will be. I do claim to be very spiritual. It's my personal connection with my own spirit.
My thoughtful place.
My heart bleeding.
My heart healing.
I find solitude in the midst of clamour.
I find love in the right places.
In the darkest corners, I find light.
Rather than list off to you all that I have and all that I am, I have two stories to share that touched my soul.
One was a little blip that my mom relayed to me just this morning about a crime of passion story. It was a tv show with a couple that had their differences and a child that was severely epileptic and destined to have a short life. The father decided to stay home with the daughter and care for her. The mother took a job and left the house and the chores to the husband. When the husband put the wife's lingerie in the dryer, she lost it. The argument became heated. There were items bashed over one another's heads. Finally, the husband took an axe and hit the wife over the head. She died. He went about his business making a meal for the daughter. The rest of the details are convoluted and unrelated to my relaying of it. What was important was that the daughter died. She died with a dead mother, a father that went to prison and without love in a group home. She was the focus and somewhere along the line, the stress blurred their focus. The lesson I learned: panties can be replaced, life cannot. I know, I over-simplified it. But, doesn't that say it all?
The next was watching a little boy, about *Mila's* age at the playground yesterday. He was clearly autistic and *Mila* tried to encourage him to play with her by smiling and looking back to see if he would follow her. These are second nature reactions for a child her age. She is learning on her own to socialize and make friends. It happens now people, not when kids are 2. Stop fooling yourselves. The boy did not respond at all to her. While he was physically capable of climbing, jumping, swinging the same as any other 4-year-old, he didn't see what was going on around him. I felt so sad for him. So sad for his mother and all that they must go through on a daily basis. I then realized that the most important part was: she was with him. The mother. All you need in this world is a good kick start. Love from your parents. We all deserve that and it CAN be fostered in lots of family situations. There are fathers who have to be mothers. Aunts. Adoptive parents. Essentially, there has to be love. No matter what. So, when I think about how some parents choose to criticize me for being a parent that stays home....blllllahaaaahhhhh. That was me sticking out my tongue. I have given up so many material things. So many. Financial decisions I am sure I will live to regret. But I will never regret being at home with her. Feeding her. Teaching her. Playing with her and caring for her. That is what it's all about.
love.
Just love.
No capital letters.
l-o-v-e.
signed, the willow
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