Once again, a Writing 101 challenge. Today’s topic: My worst fear.
I’m sure I’ve written about this before, but my worst fear is that I’ll die before my kids are grown up. My memories of my mom are fragmented; sometimes I remember things that don’t seem possible, and other times I recall things with crystal clarity.
But mostly, I don’t remember. I don’t remember very much about my childhood before my mom died. I would really, really hate for my kids to say the same. I’ve always worried about it, which is why I stayed at home with Bubbles the first two years of his life.
The only problem is that I didn’t actually like staying home. Even though it was what I wanted, I was miserable, and I didn’t know why.
It took years for me to realize that I was probably suffering from post-partum depression, and I think if I hadn’t been taking classes online from the local community college, it might have been a lot worse.
I know that I shouldn’t worry about dying young, because it won’t help and it will probably hurt. But I find it hard to stop.
At least I’ve faced one of my other major fears: how to tell Bubbles why his father and I divorced. I’m still not sure if I handled it correctly or not, but it’s too late now. He’s so upset, and I wish that I could take the hurt away for him. But he asked, and he’s old enough to understand, and he deserved the truth.
Why does the truth have to suck so much?
He’s asked before, and I replied that Daddy and I fought too much, that it wasn’t good for anybody, and that sometimes, even when people love each other, they just don’t get along well enough to stay married. I didn’t think that would be good enough this time, for some reason. I’ve been dreading this day since the day our divorce was finalized, because there’s no good way to tell him what really happened.
But as much as I wish I could make it not true, I know we’re all better off with the hand life dealt us. I have a wonderful husband, and Bubbles’ dad has a very nice wife. They have three kids together; Seymour and I have two kids together, plus Miss Tadpole. I love our family, and I love that Bubbles has two families who would do anything for him.
What I don’t love is how much the truth has hurt him. But I hope that one day, the truth will help him to be a good man, honest and true. I hope that he can learn from his parents’ mistakes and that he won’t repeat them in his own life. I hope that I’ll be able to answer any questions he has without projecting my own feelings onto things, so that he can make up his own mind.
I hope I haven’t scarred him for life.
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