
It’s been a very topsy-turvy month. I am aware that I keep using the word topsy-turvy, but that word is woefully inadequate. It doesn’t really explain how this month started on such a high, how I was feeling extremely lucky; how it felt that everything was going to plan. It doesn’t explain how in the blink of an eye those joyous emotions came crashing down. How I was left reeling; how life suddenly felt very wrong. How it felt that life as I knew it had ceased to exist. No, topsy-turvy doesn’t quite convey that. Yet I continue to use the word, and I think that it’s because I like the innocence of the word. It somehow comforts me. The only other alternative would be to swear and that isn’t really my style, well not in a blog post.
This month served to remind that life is very much made up of juxtapositions, namely light and dark; laughter and sadness. With everyday bringing news of terrorist attacks, we are constantly bombarded with images that remind us of the fragility of life, the uncertainty of it all. All the time I find myself worrying. Are my children getting the childhood they deserve? Or is this world killing their childhood: killing their innocence? As adults we hide the bad news from them; we cry behind closed doors. However, there is only so much we can shield them from; real life is happening and sometimes it is scary, and sometimes it is heartbreaking.
Yesterday we headed to the park. At the entrance to the park; tied to railings were a mountain of toys, floral bouquets and scribbled messages. Youngest, thought that they had been left there for children to play with. She wasn’t happy when I explained that the Paw Patrol toy wasn’t for her. This scene of childhood innocence was a memorial to the toddler who was run over whilst on holiday with his parents. It felt right that the teddies were there, an apt tribute to the loss of a young one. However, it also served as a brutal reminder that innocence can be destroyed in a blink of an eye. On the other side of the railings children played in death’s shadow, unaware of the significance of the bears. I found myself struggling to explain to the children. However, I felt that I had to explain; that I had to be honest. As a child, I am sure that I wasn’t aware of death and violence like my two are. There were no terrorist attacks. Death didn’t come to our doorstep. I was lucky. Part of the reason for moving to Jersey was so that our children could be brought up in a safer, more innocent environment. Before Jersey, we were living in an area that was very divided. Against the backdrop of the beautiful Yorkshire moors was a toxic society, divided by culture and religion. We worried for our girls, everyday local newspapers bringing stories of child grooming gangs. Girls that had been abused and passed around groups like rag dolls. Girls treated like cheap objects. Girls that were someone’s daughter. We fled to Jersey when we were offered the opportunity. Jersey has become our safe haven. However, I have to come to the realisation that nowhere is ever completely safe. That even on Jersey bad things can happen. Death can still visit our little island.
A part of me wants to bring the girls up to revel in the innocence of Jersey, to block the rest of the world out, but a part of me wants to prepare them for the real world. I encourage them to play outside, to explore the beaches and to fish for mermaids. However, if they ask me, then I tell them the truth. I won’t lie to them. Although, I will also continue to shelter them from the harshest reality. I will tell them the truth in a way that is gentle and still protects them. I do believe that children need to know so that they can learn about peace, tolerance and courage. Our children are our hope: they can offer us light during darkness.
This week I explained to Oldest that I was going to have to leave the island next week, and that Granny would be looking after her. When she asked why, I explained that I was going back for a funeral. Inevitably came the onslaught of questions that only a 7 year-old can come up with. Veering from the insightful one second to the ludicrous the next:
- “Why did she die?”
- “Did it hurt when she died?”
- “Will Granny play with my hair doll with me?”
- “What is a funeral?”
- “What do you do at a funeral?”
- “Will there be balloons?”
- “Will you be sad?”
I tried to explain that a funeral is a way of saying goodbye to my friend; that it is a way of celebrating her life. I tried to paint it as a positive event. However, Oldest’s questions reassured me that even when faced with the harsh reality of life, a child can still be innocent. Her final question was the hardest of all –
“You don’t need to be sad Mummy because your friend will have gone to heaven. Do you know what heaven is like?”
I struggled with how to answer before Oldest continued
“Heaven is like the most amazing hotel EVER. It has a swimming pool; people laughing, people drinking milkshakes and people eating lots of ice-cream. Heaven is a hotel”
There and then I realised that Oldest, my 7 year-old, is one of the wisest people I know. I like the idea of heaven being a very nice hotel.
“It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine” Eeyore – Winnie the Pooh
There’s so much to say in response to this and at the same time it’s hard to find anything to say…The world is broken, but the world is full of beauty too. For me, I do believe it’ll be alright in the end…Yet that doesn’t always help to deal with present suffering. and I know these last few weeks have been tough for you and those you love, Emma. We aren’t promised a life free from trouble, but I thank God that for once (rather than me opt for s super-saver special) I’ve booked myself into an amazing hotel at the end of all of this and I want my precious girls, my mum, my dad, my sister, her family and all of my family and my precious friends to have a reservation in the same hotel as me and my husband. Then they can join all of the others who look at the world and realise what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal and one day, when we are ready to present ourselves at the reception desk at the end of our lives, every tear will be wiped away and there will be only joy.
Thank you for your very considered response. 🙂
Wow this post made me well up! Sometimes kids have the ability to cut right through to the heart of things and say exactly what you need to hear without you even realising it was what you needed.
I’m a big believer in telling kids the truth when they ask questions about difficult things. I remember after Jo Cox’s murder my daughter saw some photos in the newspaper I was reading and asked me why everyone was so sad. It was a struggle to explain it but I felt like I had to – shielding them doesn’t stop the bad things happening and I hope by being honest she’ll be better equipped to deal with them they do. #forthelovefBLOG
Oh thank you for your lovely comment and I am sorry I made you well up. I agree we have to help them prepare for the future by being honest with them xx
So sorry for the loss of your friend. Children are wonderful levelers. I struggled enormously telling my eldest the honest truth when my father died. A very similar series of bizarre, achingly painful questions, coupled with beautiful observations.
It is a scary world we are living in. I hope you take comfort in your lovely kids xx #fortheloveofBLOG
I think that our children can offer us lots of comfort and hope xx
Oh I can only imagine how hard it must have been to have that conversation – the world we live in today is so utterly different to when I was younger, it makes me worried and scared for both the kids. You have been through so much in the past month and I just want to send all my love to you, and say that you are an absolute inspiration. I love Oldest’s positivity and am going to adopt her thinking that heaven is like a hotel with all the milkshakes and an amazing pool, such a lovely thought. Sunshine will be right round the corner, I’m sure of it xxx
Oh I like the idea that sunshine is just round the corner. Thanks for your lovely comment
It is scary. However, like you say it was nice that Oldest still managed to see the positive. Thanks for your comment xx
Oh lovely Emma it broke my heart reading this post. Firstly I am so sorry about your friend I know from our tribal chata how hard this has been for you. I’m sure that the chat you had with your daughter was difficult, but I hope it made you feel a little better at the same time. I hate the world we live in at the moment too with all the terrorist attacks it scares me what world we ate children up in and how I will talk to my daughter about the subject. Thank you for sharing your post with us at #fortheloveofBLOG. Claire x