Love till you Die

 

 

monet

If you are a regular reader of my posts; in particular my posts on anxiety, you will know that the one thing I fear most in life; is death. My death in to be specific; or worse, my children. Almost on a daily basis I find myself thinking of all the possible ways that I may die; and be taken away from my beautiful children. Mostly it is being confronted with another’s death, The news will often be a source for raising my fears, as I hear of fatal car accidents involving children, or tragic deaths of mother’s, and the tragedy of flight MH-17 that took the life of three Australian siblings. I cannot fathom the pain and anguish that the mother of those three children must feel. I cannot begin to understand mother’s that take their child’s life and whenever hearing of such an unspeakable incident it only makes me hold my children tighter and cover them in kisses.

I am overly affectionate with my boys; I tell them multiple times a day that I love them and how clever and wonderful they are; to the point where I am concerned I may be doing them some kind of mental disservice by my smothering mother’s love (aka: Norman Bates)… but I will never stop showing them how much I love them and cherish everyday I am with them, no matter how difficult they can be at times.

Recently an older work colleague told me he had lost his mother. He discussed how he did not find out about her passing for a few days after her passing due to conflict within the family; and it was through Facebook. He went on to say that he had not had much to do with his mother and she had been in a nursing home for quite a few years. Although my colleague was clearly upset by his mother’s death; he was certainly not devastated and part of me felt a lot of his distress came from the conflict between himself and his siblings which had obviously resurfaced.

Some days later it occurred to me the difference in how people deal with the death of their parents. I always thought to myself that I would never want to be taken away from my boys; but if I were to die when they were older, married with children of their own, I would be more “at peace” knowing they were more able to deal with the loss and had their wife and children to help them through that period of their lives. Then I thought I all the people I had witnessed that were absolutely lost following the death of their parent/s even though they themselves were grown and had children of their own. It occurred to me that it is not how old your children are that effects their level of grief, but how close the parent/child relationship was. Given that I smother my boys with love and affection, and can only hope that this translates into a close and loving bond that will continue well into their adulthood, then I can only believe (and hope) that they will be pretty upset when I die. Should I then scale back my affection? Should I put emotional distance between myself and my children so when the time comes they can put me in a nursing home and slowly fade out of my life, one less visit at a time until I die and experience minor grief and loss before going on with their lives? 

                                                                   NO WAY!!!

Unfortunately I am just going to have to be selfish in this respect and continue on loving my children in an overly affectionate, over-complimenting way and risk that they will be as devastated to see me pass on as I will be to leave them.

 

 

Image Credit: en.wikipedia.org