With remnants of my Kaitlyn fascination, I ended my day with a visit to a 6-year old girl’s wake. I cannot explain the feeling while I was there. I am not weirded out by funeral chapels, by the way, most especially after what we had with my Dad. Maybe because it’s of a child. But the atmosphere there was very light; there were colored papers shaped like flowers pasted on the walls, a section of the room was made into an art corner, and the door itself has a store sign tacked to it. It felt and looked like a playschool classroom actually.
My mother and other office friends who have small children were hesitant to look at Mimu, the little girl. I wondered if it’s really that hard.
I told him last night that I got a bit scared because losing your child is not part of the natural progression of the life we knew. I wanted to talk to him more about it but I cannot begin so without making him feel or think I have this idea of our future child while on the subject — I actually do not but it does occur sometimes. Actually, I want to talk about life and death in general. Why him? Well, it’s because I can talk to him about anything. I already accepted that he won’t remember most of our discussions but I still would like to hear what he has to say. I can find other people who are worthy to talk to but I still want it to be him.
Maybe it’s because he has always advised me of indifference. Maybe I would like to know if it really is helpful in situations such as this, or simply grieving in general. I wanted to ask him, hypothetically, what if it’s your child, what would you feel? For my part, I honestly can’t begin to tap the feeling. It’s like being in a limbo. Maybe that’s how much it hurts…and knowing me, I avoid it as much as I can but I do it in a very lousy way that I end up more hurt in the long run. Anyway…
May your gentle soul be blessed by God; we know that you are already there with Him, playing with the angels. Rest in eternal peace, Mimu.
+ Leanne Mychaela Y. Reyes (December 8, 2001-October 6, 2008) +
Categories: Citizen Judie