In the second grade, I learned my four-year-old cousin had died. I was too young to really understand what leukemia was. I remember having to wear a mask during her treatment. I remember her angelic smile, even though she had lost her blonde hair. It didn’t really hit me until late that night, being kept awake by Happy, my hamster running on his wheel in the glass tank next to my bed. The realization hit me in the face… if Emily could die, so could Happy. I didn’t want him to die. I didn’t want to die.
The sobs and wailing came just as quickly as the realization.
Mom came in with her quiet, soothing voice. I don’t really remember all she said. I only remember how her presence consoled my troubled heart. My pain as I processed what death was for the first time as a seven-year-old. The comfort only she could give me that night, just by being there. Regardless of how ruthless and cruel the world can be… a mother’s love lights up a room in the darkest of nights.
Only a year or so after this …
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