The day dawned early on that mid-July morning in 1989. Not quite six months had passed since life dealt my daughter Kacie and me a hand that altered our perceptions of the world; of life; of God; of continuity and purpose -- of everything! We had struggled -- struggled to make sense ofthe unthinkable! The day Christy -- Kacie's mother and my wife -- died as a result of injuries she received in an automobile accident set into motion a series of events that continue to reverberate through time and space even today affecting people in all walks of life!
At the beginning of the previous month, I had decided to go back to school to pursue my teaching credentials and then continue to work on my master's degree in counseling. My summer had been filled with study and time with Kacie. I cherished that time with her -- walking, talking, playing, reading together, sharing sadness as well as joy as we worked to take each day as it came.
I had started therapy about two weeks after Christy's death, going weekly in an effort to galvanize my mental, emotional and spiritual health so that I could provide as much stability and direction for Kacie as possible. Those therapy sessions were invaluable investments into the potential for healthy living for both of us!
That Saturday morning was not unlike most other Saturday mornings since I started back to school. While Kacie slept, I studied -- that is until she awoke and then we would have breakfast together and plan our day. I recall Kacie rounding the corner into the kitchen of our small home that morning, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She pulled out a chair across from me and just sat, staring off into space.
After an uncharacteristically long period of silence, I asked "You OK, Honey?"
"Yes, Daddy," she replied. "I was just wondering!"
"What were you wondering, Kacie?"
She paused briefly and then asked, "Does my mommy miss me, Daddy?"
Oh my! What a difficult question! I much preferred to answer the questions related to Dante's Inferno that rested in front of me than tackle HER question!
"Well, Honey," I stumbled, "I am sure that Mommy knows all about what and how you are doing right now -- She's in Heaven and . . . "
I paused when I recognized confusion and frustration sweep her features.
Before I could continue, she said, "I know! There's no sadness and no tears in Heaven! So I guess she DOESN'T miss me AFTER all, does she?"
With that said, she ducked her head and began to cry.
I quickly moved to her side and put my arm around her little shoulders. After kissing the top of her head, I scrambled to bring some semblance of order to the chaos that swept through her soul.
"Kacie, what if your best friend in all the world moved to California -- you would miss her and she would miss you, right?"
Through her tears and sniffles, I heard her say, "Yes!"
"OK. What if we decided that in one month, you were going to visit your friend. Do you think that you and your friend would be sad because you were apart or excited about the fact that you were going to see one another in a month?"
She stopped crying and grew quiet as she contemplated my question.
After a brief silence, she responded, "I guess we would be excited about seeing one another and not worry about being apart!"
"I think you are probably right, Sweetie! You would be more aware that you were going to be together soon than aware of being so far away from each other."
She looked up at me anticipating something else, so I continued.
"Since your mommy is in Heaven, I think she is more aware that she will see you one day there than she is feeling the sadness of missing you."
God I hoped that my answer had helped and not made her pain worse.
After another pause, she said, "I get it! It's like that verse in the Bible where it says 'A day is like seven years!'"
"That's right, Honey -- except it says a THOUSAND years!"
She laughed a little and said, "Oh, yeah! That's right!"
My attempts to help her make sense of a troublesome worry seemed to ease the situation for the time being and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The next week when I had my therapy session, I relayed the story and was commended on the good job I had done. I felt encouraged. My therapist then extended our conversation by telling me that my job was not complete, however. He told me that I must go back to her and make sure she knew that she must not allow her desire to see her mother cause her to do something that would take her there sooner than intended. I quickly saw the wisdom in that and made sure we discussed the necessity of her staying around to fulfill her life purpose.
About a week after our Saturday morning conversation, I sat contemplating her words and had a staggering revelation! She was more correct than I had initially thought! When she responded,"A day is like seven years," she was responding from her own life experience! She was seven years old, so for her, being separated from her mother was a lifetime -- HER lifetime! That realization shed a whole new light on how children work to make sense of the senseless. A thousand years had no meaning whatsoever for her -- but seven years made all the sense in the world!
In the years since that morning, I have worked at learning how to listen more carefully to children of all ages -- to what they say as well as what they don't say -- when talking about their disappointments. My education is a continual process. I have, however, deciphered a few lessons that I think children would like for adults to know. Allow me to share them with you here.
Perhaps another day down the road, I will have other lessons to share as I continue to learn from my young teachers. May I encourage you to do a couple of things? First, take a few moments to write down all the life lessons you have learned from your children or the children with whom you work. I think you'll be amazed! Second, if you feel so inclined, please share some of those lessons with us in the comments section of this blog! We'll be richer for your sharing! Thank you and until next time . . . Peace! Mark Copyright 2008 Mark E. Hundley
Comments