Late morning

October 29, 2014
I got to the front door and watched Izzy and KitKat for a while before I went in. It was late morning. They were still in their pajamas. Both on the couch. A normal morning. Their world was in tact. As far as they knew, both parents were alive. I closed my eyes, marked the moment and opened the door.
They ran to me. yelling for me and hugged me tight. I sat on the floor. Kissed them so many times. We aren’t apart a lot. I don’t like to be away from them.
KitKat went back to the couch. Izzy was on my lap smiling, talking about a new game on her grandmother’s Ipad. Her beautiful smile. This smile I will always remember. I soaked it in. A smile I would never ever get back-no matter what. I looked at KitKat and captured that last moment of her normalcy.
“Come close to me.” KitKat came over and sat in front of me.
“I have something very very sad to tell you.”
Izzy’s smile left her face. There it goes. No. No.
“Early this morning, Dada died. He went peacefully. I was there in the room and it was so quiet.” I didn’t dare say he died in his sleep. Sleep is suppose to be full of peace not fear you won’t wake up.
“He’s dead?” Izzy said. She held me tight. So tight. She cried….and then she REALLY cried. I want to explain it. I want to write it down but really, how can I? I hope never to hear this cry ever again from my children.
“I am so sorry.  I know this is going to be so hard. You have to remember how much he loves you. I am here. I will always be here for you. We are going to get through this, I love you both, I love you. I love you.”
“Mama, he won’t come back?” KitKat asked
“No, he won’t”.
I also told them too-
“When you are teenagers, you will be angry with Dada dying and with me. You will look to your friends to help you and to be angry with you. They will. You will think they know better. They won’t. I will be here. I will understand. I will love you with all the feelings you will go through. I will love you when you are sad. I will love you when you are angry. Don’t forget this.”
They both nodded.
“You can talk about Dada anytime. You can laugh about something he did, cry because you miss him, yell because you are mad.”
Izzy held me, squeezing my neck tight and whispered “I’m glad it wasn’t you.”
“Me too.” and held her and cried…because I am so thankful to be alive. I almost died after KitKat was born. The hospital called John and told him he will need to prepare for me not making it out of the surgery I had to have hours after my C-section. I was bleeding internally. I remember when they wheeled me out of my room, looking deep into Izzy’s blue eyes determined I would see them again and holding John’s hand until we were fingertip to fingertip (sound familiar?). I remember thinking about KitKat before I was put under and how I hoped not to die on her birthday-to at least give her that happy day of being born.
We sat for a while, holding each other, talking about John. We talked about the burial and his resting place.
They are seven and four. Their lives should be about princesses and playdates not cancer and death. Why them? Why John? Why us?
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