My cousin died on Christmas day.
It breaks my selfish heart. He's come to our house immediately after Christmas for the last two years. My kids started asking if he was coming this year as soon as we put up the tree. And I now know the answer to that question.
It is not the answer I would like...
He was a sweet boy/man. I have always loved him and his family.
We lost his mom just after Christmas, almost 2 years ago...and I was devastated. We lost another cousin at almost 30. Charlotte was born on his birthday. We lost another aunt in February, in 2006. I've lost 4 people in about 4 years. People who have been intregal to my life and childhood. People who I had hoped to be intregal to my children's lives.
Life has no guarentees. None.
We've been sick for 2 months. One virus after another. I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of my kids being sick. I'm tired of getting no sleep. I'm tired of being in lock down from it. I'm tired of having to trudge on and pretend that I am not sick, so I can be a "good mother".
But in the face of this loss. I am glad that my kids are sick. I am glad that they get into my bed snuffling and sneezing, wretching and hot. I get to hold them. I get to make new memories with them, even if they aren't what I want. Because don't we remember fondly our mothers petting our hair when we felt awful? And even the yucky sicknesses are a gift.
I'm tired and I feel old. I am sad, and cannot stop the tears. I am struck over and over again, at how fragile and un-perfect life is...it makes me want to tie my kids to the couch and snuggle them until they cry for mercy. I realize that there will never be enough hugs, there will never be enough words said...there will never be enough time.