I Sure Do Love You

Jordan had a school field trip yesterday to visit a working farm. I told him to look for Officer Mike, one of his classmate’s dads who was chaperoning and who had also worked with Shawn. Jordan glanced at me as if I were trying replace his dad with someone else’s and said, “I wish my dad was alive so he could go."

I had no response. For someone who thrives on words, I couldn't find one that seemed helpful. I understand. I wish the same thing. I’m sorry. Every possible response felt like I was trying too hard...like I was playing copycat and waiting for my kids to tell me, “Stop copying me! You don’t understand! Don’t be sorry. Just bring him back.”

So I did what felt like no solution at all…I said nothing.

I gave Jordan a big kiss before he had to catch the bus.

“Your kisses sound like you’re eating me,” he said.

Again I had no words for him, but at at least this time I could laugh.

“You can only kiss me on Thursdays,” he told me. “Is today Thursday?”

“No, it’s Tuesday,” I admitted.

“Okay, then you have to wait till Thursday,” he said as he climbed the steps of the yellow bus. I shook my head at his goofy seriousness to make up new rules.

Maddi and I went Caribou to review my notes for a talk I have tomorrow. Good thing Jordan will kiss me on Thursdays so I can get a good luck kiss before I speak.

Maddi walked up to the counter and said, “I want a coffee, Mama.”

With coffee (and hot chocolate) we found a table and Maddi started to draw in the notebook I brought. She practiced writing M-A-D-E-L-Y-N-N, decorating each letter with tiny dots and filling the next page with random letters. I am raising a writer.

I was at peace. I trusted Jordan would enjoy the field trip to the farm. I trusted that Maddi would like her time alone with Mom. I trusted that life would be okay...if just for today.

I looked at Maddi, content with her notebook and told her, “I sure do love you.”

She grinned at me with a dimple that dominates her face and replied, “I sure do love you, Mama!”

Later when Jordan returned home I decided to use the only words that really seem to work. I told him the same thing, “I sure do love you.”

He started to tell me about the hayride at the farm that had real hay. Interrupting himself he looked up and said, “I sure do love you, too!”

Comments

[Shelly McMahon Linskey]

After the loss of a spouse, I think grief comes as a triple whammy - your soulmate is gone, your kid's Dad is gone and the future that seemed so hopeful the day before is gone. It tore my heart into little pieces to hold my crying children (ages 7, 5, and 2 1/2 at the time) and try to somehow comfort them in their grief - they were robbed of their childhood innocence and had to grow up before their time.