Impermanence

On Sunday night, Albie fell asleep on me, his head on my heart, like he did when he was a mere lump of a human.   For the half hour previous to falling asleep, he experienced what I think was his first existential crisis.  While he has asked about death before, this time he was just sobbing and sobbing:

I don't want to die
I don't want to die

sobbing, sobbing

You know why I don't want to die?  Because I love you mama.

sobbing, sobbing

te quiero, te quiero

I want to live forever like the dirt.

Why do we die mama?  Why do we die?  Mama, do you like dying?
          (Well, I don't know if I like it or not, but I don't feel afraid...)

Mama don't die!  When you die I'll be so sad I'll cry every day, I know I will.

So bittersweet...  How could I not cry with him?  Yes, the dying part of living, in a very physical, material, here on this plane of existence kind of way, is sad.  But that somehow makes life beautiful too...  I could only be honest with him, that I really don't know, but I figure we come here to love and play and experience and then at some point, we're done.  But that what I see all around me is life - death - rebirth, cycles and cycles and circles and spirals...  But mostly, I held him, and let him express his sadness without adding too much.  And I resolved to myself to fiercely love him, and express nothing but love and compassion and generosity and joy because yes, the time to express ourselves in these bodies is just so short.

And then, the next day and the day after, I was impatient, got angry, was short, mistreated...  Oy vey.  Sometimes the gap between who I am, and who I'd like to be, seems grand canyon-ish in size.

“If you are consciously patient with people during the day, you will see more beauty.”

Comments

[Becca]

There are these creepy moments when I read your blog and I think that I am reading my own thoughts. Creepy. Good because I feel known and understood. But still like...how did she know? Is she writing just for me? ...of course not.But you get my drift.

One beautiful afternoon this summer, we were playing at a particularly peaceful river up at Sanitas. We were digging and filling holes with water, and Luca burst out sobbing. Now I am wondering if I already told you this? I held him for a while and he finally filled me on a dream he had where I was holding a cookie, and then I said something and then turned into a fly. Then he sobbed again...and finally said, "I was so sad because you weren't going to be my mom anymore!" Jeez. I felt like I had died in his dreams. Those are the moments where I think that our children are emotionally brilliant - they are processing death at the age of 5? Really? Damn. They are going to be some amazingly grounded adults, I say.

And yes, I am brilliant mother holding him and listening and getting it. Not adding or subtracting. And the brilliance fades away quickly... maybe even before I have fully let in the love, I am saying or doing something ridiculously petty.

Oh well. At least I get some brilliant moments, when I remember to just get it.

Sorry I am still swimming in the I thought I was working but really I have to be available for all Luca's school stuff so I do go to class but barely prepared and no sleep and oh yeah I have a second child and laundry? dinner? are you kidding me? I am just happy that the dogs haven't died yet.

Ok that was morbid.
But might explain why I haven't called.
:)

smooches to all you temporary argentinians...
Becca