Last night Declan had a bad dream. He cried for us and I actually heard him for once (through the fog of my nighttime medication)… so I got up to help him. He was sitting up on his bed in a daze with tears running down his face and whimpering. I asked him what he dreamed about but he couldn’t really tell me. As we sat there cuddling his fears away, he asked me, “Do you ever get scared?” I told him, of course I did. A lot. Little does he know how much.
One of my greatest fears came true for a friend of the family recently.
When I was a kid, we used to go over to the Eastern Shore of Maryland and swim in Miss Marion and Mister Al’s pool. I don’t remember a lot of my childhood – but I do remember enjoying those days with their family immensely. Marion is one of those people who are so full of life that they can’t help but make you smile.
Over the years, we lost touch – but recently Marion started reading this blog and emailing with my mother, and me too. And I got an email from her this week that was almost too sad to believe. In February, they lost her 11 year old granddaughter Missy to bacterial pneumonia. Eleven.
Wasn’t she lovely?
I wish I had something magical to say that would help Marion, Al and their family – and other families who face similar tragedies every day. But there are no words.
And that is my greatest fear in this life.
Losing Declan or Bryan.
Yesterday was the one year anniversary of Rio’s passing. Today, in the din of a foggy and drizzly morning we finally did it – we were finally ready to – pour her ashes over my flower bed. I stood there and shed fresh tears for a dog who died 365 days ago.
I don’t think I could handle the death of a child.
So, yes. I do get scared.