2 minute read
Keeping it Real
If There is Still Time
WRITTEN BY BLAIR FJESETH
As I began writing this month’s column, which was initially titled “Teaching Kids Gratitude During the Holidays,” a member of my husband’s extended family passed away. He was a young boy, just a few years older than my own children. The news brought me to my knees. How could someone with so much life to live, so much promise, just be gone?
My husband and I sat on our bed and cried. We cried again when we had to tell our children what had happened. They asked all the typical kid questions; it never ceases to amaze me how intelligent and curious kids can be.
A few hours later, as I tidied the kitchen, my oldest son came up and hugged me, his arms grasping around my waist. (I swear it was just last week he was hugging me around the knees.) His eyes caught mine, and he asked, “What can I do to make you happy, mom?”
I realized that, in his childhood, this is the first death he has had to rationalize.
I explained to him that being sad is OK. It’s a sign that we can empathize and sympathize with others, which is part of being a good person.
He asked if you could feel sad and happy at the same time. I told him that at this moment, I felt sad and very thankful for him, his brother and his sister.
I could see him working through the information. Finally, he spoke up, “I feel lots of things right now, mom. I’m sad, and scared and worried.” At bedtime, I tucked them each in extra tight, gave them all longerthan-usual hugs and breathed them in.
For days afterward, I was unable to finish this column; my thoughts could go nowhere but to this sweet child and his family. I thought about his brother, who now had to seek life’s adventures on his own. I thought about his parents, who would walk past the place where their son would kick off his boots, a former tripping hazard, and now a sorely missed occurrence.
I thought about the friends whose lives would be shaped by his death. The kids in this tiny Montana town will wonder every year on the anniversary of his passing, who he would be 5, 10, 20 years later.
I can barely type the words without breaking into tears, yet this is a reality too many have to face. So, I suppose if I bring it around to my original column topic, I will simply say this: Gratitude is a lesson learned best by example. There is nothing more significant than having the good fortune to raise children.
We get 18 Thanksgivings and Christmases with our children at home and, even then, none of those are guaranteed. Have gratitude for the messy, the loud, the unbridled chaos that having kids brings. Abandon the feeling of having to provide kids “joy” through a litany of holiday experiences and gifts, and find joy in the simplicity of being together, the magic of laughter around a kitchen table, the wild of what an unplanned adventure can bring.
Blair Fjeseth is a working professional and proud Montana mom. You can reach her at blairparker.inc@gmail.com. Follow her Instagram @blair_mt for more adventures.
