Left Behind > Death = PAIN

*Me getting Home, tho-

"No. I'm not gonna leave you outside by yourself. You run off. We don't have a fukn fence. C'mon."

You can think whatever you want about the fact that I talk to her like a person; fact is, I said "come" and about a dozen other things that she ignored before that.

She learned the words "fence" and "gate" while we rented a room for the winter. She understood everything I said. Nothing anyone else could say would convince me otherwise. It's okay. I get it. I'm stubborn, too.

Using logic and reason works every bit as well, with Jupiter, as it did with my daughter, when she was, like, 4. But, my Bug was kind of a "weird morbid kid," though. Because her father passed away when she was an infant, and she never had the chance to know him.

Like, she asked me a question, around Christmas, about death, that led to more questions, that led to me doing my best to explain the basics of (and differences between) things like Catholicism & Christianity; to some rough edging of Muslims, and the way they pray, and my understanding of the significance of direction; to Taoism & Buddhism. It was a rough one, and I was wingin' it like a mufugga.

At the end, I asked, "is it okay if I ask why you thought of that first question?"

She told me Gma had told her some trite shit regarding that it was okay she was sad, but she should "know that her dad was with God." The Christian God. Specifically. But, she followed with, "and that just didn't feel right."

Let me explain to you that loss is the most difficult for those left behind. It doesn't REALLY matter WHAT you say. It cannot and will not do ANYthing. The best you can do or hope for is to let them know they're not alone in their pain. Period. A bunch of extra driveling shit sounds like just that. Shit. Of the bull variety, most likely. Humans can inherently sense when you're playing false or over the top. Even if you're just searching, really hard, for words, sometimes.

WE KNOW that person doesn't suffer any more etc. So forth and so on. Great.

We also know that person will never take another bite of macaroni and cheese. That person will never see their child/ren (possibly firsts) smile on Christmas morning, again. These people will never feel the gentle sighs of a soft woman on a Saturday morning, again. This person will never scratch his own balls, again. This person will never sing stupid made up lyrics to songs on the radio, again.

This specific man will never say dumb Irish shit, that I didn't ask about, but heard in the background of other annoying shit. Ever. Ever, again. This specific man will never yell at me, or apologize, or cry, or love me, ever.. ever, again. Even if I decided I wanted to "make up" six months or three years from now. This specific man was never going to see our specific daughter get ready for a single day of school. Ever. Never going to give her a pep talk about a broken bone. Never going to kiss her head "goodnight" and tease her about what he'd do if she EVER thought to cut those sun-fire shining auburn locks. Never be impressed with how AWESOME her first period story kind of was. Is. So many nevers...

Even when old wounds healed, life had moved forward, and we got along better, or not, we would never co-parent. Our daughter was ten months old.

Many things could be said about my late-husband. But, that he was a bad father? No. If they said it, they either didn't know the man I knew, had never seen him with children, or they were, maybe, trying to save face. From the accounts I had ever been regailed by. Which, if fudged, were likely NOT VERY MUCH SO from my NUMEROUS sources whom told me less pretty sides of BOTH participants. But, I digress.

Now, let me just explain to you that I was INSTANTLY overcome with relief! Because, I had made the decision to allow her to occasionally attend church, with her friends. Assuming she would talk to me about anything important, and, if necessary, I could reprogram it.

I only had the SLIGHTEST hesitation before diving into why the Christian God is sometimes not right and that the Catholic church had done some very bad things to women (I didn't say children, but I did loosely explain the witch trials,) and I was so glad I had already chosen to "Let Go & Let God." She told me she had noticed some stuff about "listening to men and stuff," too.

It was in this single moment that I knew, whatever happened, later, or to me, she had a good head on her shoulders and I had done SOMEthing right in her early development years.

Deep thinker.

Or, the time, when she was 11, that some guy was sitting on the bench, where I often found "strays," and I stupidly said, "Did you just get out of jail?" Because we were literally in eye shot, tho!

He looked at me, hella sideways, and was like "NO!"

Being me, THINKING, "this guy doesn't need an orange or a cigarrette," I say something like "Cool, have a great night." And start walking away.

As soon as she figured we were out of ear-shot, Bug stage-whispered, "OMG, MOM, THAT WAS SO RACIST!"

I'm like, "No, it wasn't. I give ppl stuff, right there, when they're getting out of jail, all the time!"

She was like, "HE DOESN'T KNOW THAT!"

I said, "Oh. My. Gawdz. Everybody's! Oh, Everybody's Gods! BUT, I'VE PROBABLY BEEN TO JAIL MORE TIMES THAN HE HAS!" At which point, I will admit, I was getting a little loud. For a still quiet evening.

But, I thought my Bug was gonna go ahead n lose her shit. "HE DOESN'T KNOW THAT, EITHER!!!!"

So, I lost our shit for both of us, "OH! MY! ACTUAL! GODS!!!!"

And that was the moment I knew I had been right the first time.

Which, KINDA, BEGS the question, what TF went WRONG for some of these grown-ass #incelspectrum motherfuckers, amiright? Because, as #tough & #bright as this young female IS, SHE has NOT actually had this life EASY. But, she can still put herself in someone else's shoes. Today's lack of compassion is not only sickening, but horrifying.

And, even my fucking dog gets it.

NB4 overly emotional shit, I did cry while writing this. A lot. And, while giving it the "once over," for editing purposes. But, they were good, healthy, processing tears.

Pic is 4 year old Mini-Me 💜♠👽