I was reminded of an important lesson today.
This little spot on the internet is most often a place to laugh and complain, to give and take advice, to find the humour in the everyday.
This morning, though, an update on Facebook caught my eye and made it impossible to write with humour. It was the anguished post of a new widower telling his and his wife’s friends that she’d passed away in her sleep last night.
This young woman was 31-years-old. She was, by all outward appearances, healthy. She was the mother of five children under five. The youngest of whom are infant twins, under a year old. She was a talented photographer who was working on a book project. She was an Iraq war vet. She was a member of my mums group.
While I’d only met her a time or two at large playgroups and have no real memories of her, we’d connected on our forum in the way of mums. To think that she’s gone is hard to fathom. And to think of her children and her husband makes my heart hurt.
Today was a reminder that even though there are times when my children drive me crazy, moments when my ex makes me want to bang my head against the wall, days when I want to crawl in bed with a good book and escape the world, I also need to hold my little loves and make sure they know how much I love them.
As I tucked my babies in bed, I kissed them a little more, hugged them a little harder. I wiped a tear at the idea that a young mother isn’t doing the same with her children tonight. I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath at the vision of a man realising his world has shattered. And I sent a fervent prayer of thanks for the day I had with my children.
Even if the bathroom was flooded and they spilled their cereal and they yelled too loudly and they broke the coffee table. Because it’s a day in this wonderful world and in this wonderful life.