This post comes from tear-drenched yet open eyes, and a heart that is hurting.
This week I learnt on Facebook that one of my PR friends had lost one of her three-year-old twins. There are no words to explain this tragedy, very little way to explain these things, and it’s hard for me to comprehend how a family could ever go on the same again. I guess they can’t.
When I think of this story, I am so grateful for you, and for your health, and I realise again that I love you until I hurt, that you are an extension of my heart and being, and without you, I don’t think I even want to be.
Right now I’m holding you close to me, and I wish I never had to let you out of my embrace for fear of losing something. But things are not meant to be like this, so you’re off to play with your diggers and trucks. And know that I am treasuring every wheel spin and word “twuck” that comes from you.
I am so grateful for you, for what you give me, and for the brightness you shine. I’m sorry if I lose sight of it sometimes and get more worked up over tantrums, what school to send you to, and what shoes to buy, than knowing what’s important. I’m sorry that someone else’s loss makes me take stock of what I have. Which is an awesome and spirited child who makes my hours and days.
I’ll do better to see the essential, I promise.
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