Tag: grief

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Today Was Supposed to be November 21st

Toward the end of October, I called my mom, excited about the arrangements I had just made. “Mom, I just booked a Paint ‘n Take party for Lily!” Mom thought the party, where each child would paint a small ceramic figurine, would be perfect for Lily. Lily is a “crafty” kind of girl.

I was a little worried about this kind of party for five-year-olds. How long would it take them to paint a little figurine? 10 minutes? 2 minutes? I just couldn’t see these little kids painting for a whole hour.

“I’ll come and help you,” Mom said.

“Really?” I replied. “Do you really think you can come?” I was so excited.

“I think so!” she said. The last time Mom had been able to travel to our house was last March, to watch Lily’s first ballet recital. I was so pleased that she felt healthy enough to make the six-hour drive to help with her granddaughter’s birthday party!

The middle of November came. I got the call. The call to come to see my mom.

I canceled Lily’s party. I called parents, telling them Lily’s Grandma was sick.

The party was scheduled for November 21. Barely two days later, Mom died.

I didn’t have the heart to reschedule right away. Lily was amazing. She knew I would reschedule, and never once pestered me about her party. She was unbelievably patient for a five-year-old girl.

And so today is the day. Lily’s party, at last! She could hardly go to sleep last night with the excitement of it all.

As for me, I am crying while I write this post. Crying now, so I don’t cry later. Crying now, so that grief doesn’t strike me down in the middle of my darling daughter’s 5th birthday party. The party she’s been waiting for.

Lily with her grandma, March, 2009
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Happiness Creeps In

Lily is five, but by the way she is acting I feel like she’s hit puberty early. She says things like, “I hate you, Mommy!” and “Mommy, you’re so mean!” She throws crying, screaming fits when I tell her it’s time to turn off the T.V. or that she can’t have dessert. (Give that kid sugar? No way!) She refuses to listen to my suggestions on how to do certain things. “I want to do it MY WAY, Mommy!” When I try to snuggle with her at bedtime, she’ll push me away and say, “Your breath smells, Mommy. Go brush your teeth!”

Lily was no angel before, but her willful behavior has suddenly escalated in the past two months.

Hmm…two months. Two months of absolutely, positively, horrible behavior. Two months since Lily’s grandma died.

In an abrupt contradiction to this behavior, Lily is very observant to certain things. “Mommy, why is your nose red?” she’ll ask. “Mommy, are you sniffing?” Yes, Lily, I’m sniffing, but I only have a runny nose, I reassure her as I reach for a tissue.

Two nights ago, I went into Lily’s room to tuck her in and kiss her goodnight. Instead of the usual “your breath reeks” comment, she asked me to snuggle with her for a while.

Snuggle? With Lily? YES, LILY, I WILL SNUGGLE WITH YOU!!!

I crawled into bed with Lily, my heart full of happiness. I held her close, smelled her hair, and kissed her cheek. Lily snuggled back.

And then she said, “Mommy, don’t breathe on me!”

Happiness is a state of mind at Sprite’s Keeper. Put your spin on it!