The past few days have been cold, gray and rainy. Perfect fall weather if this happened to be fall. The nights are inky black. Driving at night lately has been a test of my patience with all the rain and impossible visibility. I don’t want to discuss this at all, but I feel it would be remiss to ignore it:
More often than not, I prefer that my kids watch the news with me. I explain things to them in a way that children can understand. It’s an opportunity to understand things like the weather and to a more shielded degree what police and firefighters do. But then things happen and I have to turn the TV off.
Gray, rainy days are best supplemented by sitting together on the couch or in my bed watching cartoons and cuddling. I have an inherent need to touch and hold the people close to me at times like these. Play blocks and kitchen. Read books. Chase the dog and make cookies. Yes, even when I play Warcraft, my son cuddles up next to me and watches.
Saturday night, I fell asleep early, maybe 11 or midnight, and woke up at 4 AM. So much for sleeping early. The Mr. woke up and I kept bugging him until he was totally awake. We laid in bed and talked and for hours and eventually played around on the computer. Right about when he wanted to go back to sleep at 7, I made puppy dog eyes because I wanted to go out for breakfast with the family. It was a happy and exciting morning for the kids and for me because we see Dad at breakfast an average of once per week.
So, even in the rainy gloom of a Sunday morning, everyone was happy. And then on the way home I noticed all the flags at half staff and just lost my shit. I can insulate myself from the world only so much. Despite all of the silliness, immaturity and self proclaimed childishness, I am still an adult and a parent. A parent with a child nearly the same age as those murdered in Newtown. A parent with a child that could be in a classroom where the shooter visited.
I don’t really have words to describe this. There is a saying that if a person loses a spouse they are called a widow or a widower. If a child loses his parents, he becomes an orphan. But there’s no real word to describe what a parent is after they lose a child. It’s something that I cannot imagine. These are the thoughts that are rolling around my head now, so close to Christmas. Life goes on for everyone else, but it amazes me to no end that life will go on for anyone in that town. People are more resilient than they should ever need to be.
More silliness later, as always.