Wednesday, September 14, 2011

On how fragile we are

It's been a long time since I last blogged, and I wish I had a happier post to place here today, but I was devastated with the news on Gabby's death. For those not around it, this 5yold sweet little girl fought for months against a very aggressive brain tumor, suffered like hell, and lost her battle last Sunday. I was following up her story, in touch with them, and like so many others, tried to believe that this time something would happen and turn this sad time a happy one. Not happening. What hugely took off my balance was to see such a little kid facing what my big sister had. I just couldn't understand how strong her little body and soul were all this time, because I know well how awfully violent this kind of tumor is. Maybe it was masochistic to keep reading about her, like reliving the worst time of my life, but I just couldn't help, that's what a friend does. Again, I kinda wanted to believe it would be different this time, even though deep inside I knew how it would end.

Reading Gabby's dad's poignant post on her illness and death drained my strength and my energy, and brought that old fear we moms all have. What if it was my kid? How to endure this unbelievable, unbearable pain? I'm the kind of person who treasure every moment I have with my little witch. I was too lucky to have a son that, even after the end of my informal marriage, has never been less than awesome, and emotionally & physically healthy. He's never been a kid to throw tantrums, never been spoiled (very loved but never spoiled), always sweet, smart, funny - of course, full of energy and rarely able of standing still, thank the gods. A really good child. I just can't phantom the idea of losing him in any way. But worse, to go through what these parents have, to watch my child slowly lose his life, day after day. It's too terrifying just to allow a tiny thought about it cross my mind, so it's blocked.

When my sister was diagnosed with this aggressive brain tumor, the time between this and her death was too fast, and too slow. Too fast to see how invasive and hungry the cancer beast was, and too slow to watch her daily pain, to watch the daily little details that haunt me till today. I don't know how my mother survived that. For me, it was the worst, the most painful time I had to live, with too many memories before and after that, that are too hard to tell and to forget. She was my sister, and that time was a haunting tattoo in my soul. But with a kid? Your own blood? No way.

I deeply hope someday Gabby's parents can live with this pain without having it ruining their lives like it must be doing right now. I hope they can breathe again.

What we learn is the obvious and so easily forgotten, and that John reminded us:

"Hug your kids

Love your kids

Believe in your kids

Never take them for granted, they could be gone tomorrow or five minutes from now, never forget that. Even years after this, let gabby have taught you that, work , money, status. None of that is important family is. Go hug someone right now."

Never take anyone for granted, appreciate them, and give them the right attention and love, don't wait for tomorrow, for the next minute, do it now. Love, say it out loud to the ones you care about, express your love, your affection. Cherish the moments you have, be thankful for having your kids, your loved relatives and friends in good health. You never know. Life is too short for drama, and the small circle of love in life should be sensed at its fullest, with all your heart.

Sorry for this venting (I know I don't need to say sorry for writing what I want in my own blog, but all of you who follow this page know what I mean). It was stuck into my throat. Going right now to kiss my sleepy little witch's face.