I mean, barely right? Just the second night in a row. It is what it is and I’m good with that. I wanted to come down to write about an existential moment I just had with Tristan at bedtime.
We’re laying in his bed before he goes to sleep and he says to me “Mommy, when you die, do you turn into a ghost?”
“Ya know… I’m not totally sure about that,” I admitted. “I think that you definitely turn into spirit, but I don’t think it’s like ghosts like in the stories.”
“Oh.” He paused. “Can ghost see real people? Like when we’re still alive?”
“I dunno. I definitely feel Grandma’s energy around sometimes. Grandpa’s too, but I don’t think they can see me like we see cause they don’t have eyes right? Cause we leave our body behind.”
Tristan agreed and then got quiet. After a few minutes, he started to speak quietly and tearfully telling me that if we die while he’s still a kid he won’t have anyone to take care of him. My mind went to all the children living that reality right now and I knew that he was right. This isn’t a little kid just being scared. The guy had a point. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself at not even 7 years old.
I calmly and casually said that my plan was to die when I’m a really, really old lady, and that by then he’ll be a grown up. He might be married and even be a daddy by then so he would know how to take care of himself. I asked if that sounded like a good plan, he concurred, and we agreed that would be our plan.
He got quiet again. And then a minute later, after some more thinking, he said tearfully, “But Baba and Dido will be dead already, cause they’re gonna die before you guys. And when you die there’s not gonna be anybody to take care of me.”
“Yeah, you right. That’s a good point. Look at Mommy though. My grandparents have died, and my mommy and daddy are both gone and I’m here with you. You’re strong like Mommy, and Mommy’s strong. You’ll be able to do it just like Mommy.”
“But if you die when I’m a kid Baba and Dido aren’t gonna know that you’re dead.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m gonna be at my house and I don’t know how to get to Baba and Dido’s house to tell them.”
“That’s a valid concern. Let’s make a plan that I’ll teach you how to get there so you’ll know how to get to Baba and Dido’s house. Good call dude. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and telling me your worries so we could try to figure out some solutions together. Thanks for trusting me.”
As he often does after a heavy conversation, he said tiredly “Mommy can we please stop talking about this? Will you please be quiet.”
“Yeah bud.” So I laid quietly beside him. “Can I say one more thing?”
“What Mommy?”
“We can be strong and still cry. We’re still strong when we cry. I think crying is strong.” And that was it. We laid quietly together in his little twin bed, my arm around him, until Tanya came to give him a goodnight kiss a couple minutes later.
When I say that parenting feels like the greatest honor in the world sometimes, this is the kind of stuff I mean. Getting to talk to this kid, and hear his honest thoughts and legitimate concerns. To be that person he comes to and know that I get to answer him from a place of gentle honesty. No bullshit. All love, and we make a plan together as a team. What a goddamn honor.