While sitting on the back porch past bedtime with Dave, between a barred owl’s hoots, little Evelyn appeared in her full-length, cheetah-patterned pajamas. Her innocence, cuteness, and articulation were almost too much for any mother. But then came the question that gutted me:
“When people die, can they come back alive?”
Pulling her into my arms, I told her no, and at acknowledging the answer and the depth of what it meant, tears slipped down my face, mirroring hers. And then I told her, “I wish we could live forever together,” she, ever practical, replied, “But then we’d be sad watching everyone else die.”
My mind flashed through books and movies exploring that very theme, and—yeah—she’s right.
I’ve always appreciated the elders in my life whose practicality in this area has set a benchmark for me. Their quiet acknowledgment and acceptance of the unknown have been both sobering and oddly comforting.
This is the fact: Feel however you want about it, but it won’t change. You will die. I will die. Everyone around us will die. And that is both sad and true.
The truth is a hard pill to swallow, but when we face it together, it feels more like warm milk, a loving embrace. It reminds us that we can do hard things.
But, just like in Game of Thrones, the littlest character slays the most immortal beast aka death, looks them in the eye and says, “Not today.”
Not today!
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 