Or your spouse, or your dog, or anyone you love and haven't hugged today (if it's possible to hug them, if not, call them and tell them how much you love them).
A mom in my mommy group died on Saturday. She just DIED. I'm talking 35 years old, inexplicably keeled over and stopped living suddenly. Not sick, not in a high-risk group, nothing. Autopsy results are pending, but the theory is that it was a blood clot or aneurysm.
I didn't know her personally--our group has 1700 members--but she apparently lived in my neighborhood and I've seen her posts on our online bulletin board (as recently as Friday in fact). She has a 19-month old daughter and a husband, and the group has set up an education fund for the little girl. I donated, but it doesn't seem like enough.
The whole thing has me chilled to the bone. I'm suddenly realizing not only how precarious life can be, but how much more terrifying mortality is when you have kids. Sure, I don't want to die, but more importantly I don't want to LEAVE THEM. We're on the ball, we have insurance and wills, but our guardianship situation leaves a whole lot to be desired (it's a Lifetime made for TV movie in the making basically), and there's not much we can do about it other than never fly anywhere together but without the kids, and consider taking separate cars when we go out on "date night" somewhere alone.
No, I'm not paranoid, I'm realistic. Shit happens, as this story plainly illustrates.
I'm also realizing it's high time I get my ass in gear and start journaling for my girls. I started a journal for Emma when I was pregnant with her, but stopped when she got sick at 6 months. Didn't start up again until I was preggo again, but then quit again because of morning sickness. Lame, pathetic excuses. I should have typed the darn thing from the git-go. Lord knows I can type ten times faster and more easily than I can write. Plus, my penmanship is lousy.
I want my girls to know me if something should happen. I can't count on any living person to tell them who I was or what I was about, and I sure can't count on anyone else to convey to them what I'd want them to know. I don't have a mother and I know only too well how much it hurts to go through major life events without one, but moreover without even knowing what advice she would have given me if she were here. Even if all I can do is tell them over and over and over again how very much they are loved--in a way that's permanent, in case something happens to me before they are old enough to remember hearing me say it (the eight million times a day I do say it).
I guess if they want to they can read this blog, but I'm not so sure that's the me I want them to remember most. Sure, they should know that side of their loony mom, but they should also know what THEY were like as babies in a way that only I can tell them, only I can document.
It's amazing how the death of a stranger can affect you so much, but this has. So like I said, go hug someone and make it count.
Posted by insomnomaniac at January 4, 2006 3:43 AM | TrackBack