We all know I'm a little bit...umm..warped? I don't know, maybe that's not the right word.
Anyway...
I was thinking about dying (like I said...). There's just been so many sad stories on the news lately about this topic. I know, I know...I shouldn't watch the news...ever. My heart can't take it. I was once at an intersection where this little old man had rear-ended another man and the younger man was yelling at this poor old guy and my heart just broke. I was so close to jumping out giving the young man a lesson in respect! Then I realized that that wouldn't do any good and my daughter needed her mother (I only had the one baby at the time), so I just sat there helplessly waiting for the arrow to turn green.
Back to what I was saying. Since I've become a mother, I've been afraid of death and I always thought it was because I didn't want people to forget me. My husband would remarry and in six month I'd be a distant memory. The ghost of my former self hidden on pictures packed away on an old hard drive somewhere.
But after some thought, I've realized that's not it...not really.
I am scared...so incredibly scared, that my children wouldn't know just how.much I love them. No one will ever be able to love them as much and as fiercely as I do. The thought of them not being able to feel that and to know that all I've done, all I want to do...is for them.
Right now they never have to worry about feeling inadequate, or like nobody cares about them...I feel as if I could protect them through out their day with a shield, an impenetrable aura of adoration..
Don't get me wrong. There are things I want to do for myself...my bucket list.
1. Be an author...a published author
2. Go to a real masquerade ball in Italy
3. Go to Ireland
But all of those things don't truly matter...I'd be dead...what would I care at that point?
And while my children know now that I love them...if I were to die while they are still so young, they not only would forget me (eventually) but they might not remember how I made them feel.
