I stumbled upon this photo today. I was looking for a different one.
When I saw it, I cried.
They look so worried, so sure that the world was an uneven, unbalanced place.
It was then. (It still is but I am trying to ease myself into that fact.)
I had been in the hospital all day with Art.
The next day I would call friends who would gather them from school and bring them to the hospital where I would tell them one at a time, "Your father is dying."
When I look back on all this grief, there is one place that I never like to touch, one place where the rawness never seems to heal.
I could not protect them from loss. Nothing has made me, or still makes me feel so small or useless or powerless. Nothing has made me question the purpose of motherhood more.
At that moment, when I told them, when I accompanied each one in to say good-bye I knew I was doing the right thing, but the pain from doing that is something I had not visited till I saw this photo.
This photo was taken 4 days before Art died. The innocence is still in their eyes.
I stop crying and download this photo to my phone.
It is here I remember how resilient we all are.