After a difficult battle with cancer, we lost Bobby's mother earlier this week – Sun Ok ("Sunny").
If there has been any light to this dark time, it has shown me what an amazing man I have married and chosen for the father of my child. A loving son that was at his mother's side throughout her illness up until the very end. And also how blessed I am to have married into one of the most loving and supportive families; his siblings and father I consider as my very own.
Upon hearing the announcement shortly before the Christmas holidays, that not only did they find cancer but it was indeed already at stage four, the family was understandably devastated. A stroke following a month later didn't make the illness any easier, but Sunny remained in good spirits considering her situation.
Avery visited his grandmother a couple times each week, not only so he spend time with her, but it brought her great pleasure just to watch him play. The two of them had a strong bond and he could make her laugh harder than anyone else. Bobby built a swingset near her bedroom window so even in her most weakened state, she could lay in bed and watch him gleefully frolic in her back yard.
That being said, I dreaded the moment when I would have to break the news to my little one.
I began by reading him this book: a fable about waterbugs transforming into dragonflies. As I started to explain, tears rolling down my cheek, he pointed to my face and asked why there was water. Hmph.
So I took him into the kitchen and lit a candle telling him it symbolized his grandmother and that inside everyone there is a light. Using the candle flame, I lit another candle symbolizing him. I asked, "Is the flame any smaller now that we've spread the light?" He shook his head.
And then we blew it out. Its smoke filled the room and we breathed it in. "Now that we can't see the light, how can we experience it? The light is now everywhere and we can longer see it, but we've breathed it in and it's inside of us wherever we go."
Did this work? I'm not so sure but it gives me solace. An Episcopalian preschool director told me this is how they explain the story of Jesus to young children and that it equally applies to the death of loved ones.
But I'm not sure I've given Avery enough credit for having the ability to deal with a tough situation. As we were driving to meet the rest of the family, I explained to him he would be seeing many of his cousins soon - that when someone dies, the family comes together to share memories and celebrate life.
"Who died?"
"Mommo. Remember what we talked about this morning? Her body was very very sick."
"Like I was sick?"
"No. A different kind of sick. You were able to get better and she was not. Poppo and Daddy are very sad because they miss her so much, but are glad she is no longer in pain. When we go to her house, you will not see her anymore."
"Oh, but that's okay. She's in my heart."
And so a life lesson was learned from a young boy wise beyond his three years. If only we can learn to cope with every situation like him, there will be no more suffering.
