Cracked, But No Broken
Last Friday night my grandson broke something of mine. It wasn't valuable in a monetary sense, but it was sentimental. It was a little blue bird night light that my mom had given to me shortly before she passed away. She knew I loved birds, so she bought it for me.
I was upset to see this little porcelain night light on the floor in twenty or so pieces. I picked them up carefully and set them on my kitchen table. I pulled out my glue and proceeded to piece it back together. After about fifteen minutes, I could see it was futile. There were too many tiny pieces that wouldn't hold together. I was devestated.
My husband, in the meantime had placed my rambunctious little boy in his leather chair for a time out. When I walked around the corner of the living room, my grandson looked very sad, lip out and head down. He looked the way I felt.
Upon seeing me, he put his arms out and said " Down?" I picked him up as he hugged me tight. He hugged me like he has never hugged me before. I think he could sense how upset I was, so this was the only way for him to make it ok, he was right. I buried my head in his neck and smelled in his sweetness, holding him.
It was just a stupid little night, but it was my last gift from my mom. I was never going to get another gift from her. For that matter, no hugs, kisses, conversations, or laughing would I share with my mom. This broken little night light, brought all of these feelings crashing back.
I recalled being ten years old. I was standing in the same living room, brushing my hair, admiring myself in the large mirror that hung over the sofa. I stepped back, and fell over the coffee table, that held a blue blown glass vase. Smash, crash, I had fallen backwards, head over tea kettle, and the delicate blue vase was broken all over my mom's shiny hardwood floor. I looked up to see the look on my mom's face. Her face was just as shattered as her vase. I began to cry, not because I was hurt, but because my vanity had hurt my mom. I continued to apologize to her over and over again. She said she forgave me, but I knew that vase had been a wedding gift from her mother and father. Her father was gone, and that vase had been the last gift from him. She was heartbroken.
I understood my mom's feeling of loss all over again. She wasn't mad at me, but she was sad, and felt a loss...just like I did on Friday.
My night light wasn't just a material item, I felt like it was a piece of my mom. It wasn't of course, it was just a night light. My mom was gone. That was reality, I knew it, and now I had to accept it. My mom lived in my memory as well as my heart, she didn't live in that night light.
Sometimes we get caught up in sentiment. Sometimes we get too caught up in what we don't have, to see what's standing in front of us. Standing in in front of me, was my little grandson, by now, smiling and happy. This made me happy. My night light was gone, and so was my mom, but my family and myself are here, and although we are a bit cracked, we're still together.
I was upset to see this little porcelain night light on the floor in twenty or so pieces. I picked them up carefully and set them on my kitchen table. I pulled out my glue and proceeded to piece it back together. After about fifteen minutes, I could see it was futile. There were too many tiny pieces that wouldn't hold together. I was devestated.
My husband, in the meantime had placed my rambunctious little boy in his leather chair for a time out. When I walked around the corner of the living room, my grandson looked very sad, lip out and head down. He looked the way I felt.
Upon seeing me, he put his arms out and said " Down?" I picked him up as he hugged me tight. He hugged me like he has never hugged me before. I think he could sense how upset I was, so this was the only way for him to make it ok, he was right. I buried my head in his neck and smelled in his sweetness, holding him.
It was just a stupid little night, but it was my last gift from my mom. I was never going to get another gift from her. For that matter, no hugs, kisses, conversations, or laughing would I share with my mom. This broken little night light, brought all of these feelings crashing back.
I recalled being ten years old. I was standing in the same living room, brushing my hair, admiring myself in the large mirror that hung over the sofa. I stepped back, and fell over the coffee table, that held a blue blown glass vase. Smash, crash, I had fallen backwards, head over tea kettle, and the delicate blue vase was broken all over my mom's shiny hardwood floor. I looked up to see the look on my mom's face. Her face was just as shattered as her vase. I began to cry, not because I was hurt, but because my vanity had hurt my mom. I continued to apologize to her over and over again. She said she forgave me, but I knew that vase had been a wedding gift from her mother and father. Her father was gone, and that vase had been the last gift from him. She was heartbroken.
I understood my mom's feeling of loss all over again. She wasn't mad at me, but she was sad, and felt a loss...just like I did on Friday.
My night light wasn't just a material item, I felt like it was a piece of my mom. It wasn't of course, it was just a night light. My mom was gone. That was reality, I knew it, and now I had to accept it. My mom lived in my memory as well as my heart, she didn't live in that night light.
Sometimes we get caught up in sentiment. Sometimes we get too caught up in what we don't have, to see what's standing in front of us. Standing in in front of me, was my little grandson, by now, smiling and happy. This made me happy. My night light was gone, and so was my mom, but my family and myself are here, and although we are a bit cracked, we're still together.
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