Seizing the Moments

No pictures. This is not about pictures.

The more I’m around children, the more I realize you have to jump on the moments when they occur. Teachable moments. Connecting moments. Emotional moments.

Last night, the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world spent a good half hour talking to her boys about a very serious subject.

I don’t get to have these moments, yet. Maybe I never will. It’s a trust issue, I think. It’s not something that they feel comfortable talking to me about but I hope that one day they will. Until then, I do what I do. I observe. I listen. I learn.

After a protracted battle to get them to bed, they wanted to know about a very painful subject. Suicide. I have no idea why.

A part of it was wanting to stay up, I think. Both the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world and I know that. But it’s also a topic that’s a lot more important than Pokemon or Adventure Time. So it’s not something to ignore or put off. If the boys want to talk about this, time is made.

For the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world, this is a very personal subject. She lost someone very, very dear to her and that pain, that loss has never gone away. As much as we can intellectualize these occurrences in our life, the simple truth is that they scar us.

But she talks to the boys about it.  Why someone would do that? they want to know. They want details. Even how. How did he do it?

I’ve never had the courage to ask her that question. I didn’t want to cause any more pain.

But the boys ask.

And the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world tells them. I know she’s tearing up. It’s hard not to. But she never shies from hard things. Never.

They ask if some does that, do they still go to heaven? They love the idea of heaven, even if they aren’t particularly religious.

I know some people believe no. I like to think we all make it there, though my concept of heaven is less clouds and angels and more about being with the ones they loved and lost. I told the boys that when they asked me once if I believed in heaven.

She tells them that yes, we all go to heaven. In some form or another. She believes she’ll see him again.

I think that comforts the boys. They were silent for a while. Thinking, perhaps.

They quiet down.

And she leaves them, returning to bed.

I feel a little guilty for listening. Like I’m stealing their moment.

But it’s a moment for me, too.