LIFE, ACCORDING TO BLAKE
Blake:  Mummy, you would be so sad if I died. But I’d love you forever even if I died.
Me: ………..
Blake: Mummy? Why are you crying?
Me: (I literally couldn’t speak.   What was he trying to tell me?  What would I do?  How would I live without him???)

Whoa!!!

We were just talking about trains and his new sandbox while he finished his shower when he whipped opened the shower curtain and hurled these 18 words at me.  Eighteen sweet and innocent words that came out of nowhere and brought me to my knees.  Tears instantaneously and involuntarily filled my eyes as, for a few long moments, I swore he was trying to tell me that he wouldn’t be here much longer. (I’ve read these kinds of stories many times. A young child says something profound about his love for you and how he’d miss you… and then suddenly they were gone.) For a few long moments, I was filled with a sense of dread and fear I hadn’t felt since Blake’s stint in the NICU where I watched helplessly as he struggled for every breath. (He fought for his life in the NICU and won and has been doing great ever since. Is the other shoe finally doing to drop?) And for a few long moments, there I was on my knees, in the middle of my bedroom, practically paralyzed by my biggest fear. I grabbed Blake and hugged him tightly, never wanting to let go. As quickly as it began, though, the moment ended. Blake declared I was hugging him too tightly and he couldn’t breathe. He wriggled out of my grasp, giggled, and ran off calling over his shoulder that he had trains to play with.  I sat there by myself –  questions swirling around in my mind and anxiety filling every cell of my body.  It was then that I heard Blake’s infectious laughter emanating from the other room and realized I was wasting my time worrying about something that hasn’t happened.  So, I got up and blew my nose.  I suddenly had a desire to go play with trains.

LIFE LESSON:   Sometimes it’s not necessary to search for the meaning in each and every thing someone says. You may miss the moment itself. Rather, take it for what it is. My son was telling me that he loves me. Very much. So much so that even if he wasn’t here, his love for his mummy was so big it would stretch from Heaven to earth. I love you too, buddy. Big much.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go take a few extra anti-anxiety pills.