A little background: when Poods was a baby, Deat and I were woefully lacking in our knowledge of lullabies. We just didn't know any. So, we sang whatever came to mind.
If you can slow it down enough, just about anything becomes a lullaby. This is why (along with "Two Little Fishes and Five Loaves of Bread") my girls can adeptly sing "Jack 'O Diamonds" for anyone who will listen:
If you can slow it down enough, just about anything becomes a lullaby. This is why (along with "Two Little Fishes and Five Loaves of Bread") my girls can adeptly sing "Jack 'O Diamonds" for anyone who will listen:
If the ocean was whiskey and I was a duck, I'd dive to the bottom and never come up... yee haw...
Tonight I sang "Cockles and Mussels" (also known as "Molly Malone", lyrics are below the video) It must have been the first time she really paid attention to the words. She was struck with a sudden bout of overwhelming empathy.
When I got to the final verse, and finished, her eyes became very big, she teared up a little, and said, "Did the Momma die?"
(I never imagined Molly Malone as a "Momma," but okay...)
(I never imagined Molly Malone as a "Momma," but okay...)
"Yes, honey, I suppose she did."
(Eyes more concerned, even larger) "Did they have a Daddy?"
Suspecting her worry was about being left "alone", I replied, "Yes honey, and he took very good care of them."
This seemed to soothe her, and she settled right back down.
Moments like those used to tear me to shreds, and I would become a completely unhinged weepy mess... until she became older and I recognized that the little Bear was learning to yank my chain with it. Her favorite ploy became to cry loudly, "DADDY!" every time she was in trouble.
Yes, initially, she was missing him. But, like most little ones, B.B. paid attention to others' reactions to her behaviors, and quickly learned to use those reactions to manipulate situations to her advantage. She figured out that crying for Daddy instantly got her out of whatever scrape she was in.
Once I learned to keep my emotions in check at such statements, she persisted for awhile, but she eventually quit using them to get her way, or to distract me from a misbehavior, or to accomplish whatever ulterior motive du jour she had going. The days of using "Daddy's name in vain" are long past.
He's been gone over half her life. I don't think she "remembers" him in any concrete way, but I think she feels a loss of him just the same. After the song, she launched into an explanation of how her Daddy could look into the windows and see her, but she couldn't see him. I never offered this concept to her, but I wasn't surprised by it. B.B. has explained many concepts of death to me that she's gleaned from various sources over the years, some from obviously well-meaning folk, but I'd just as soon some of them had left the explaining to me.
Yes, initially, she was missing him. But, like most little ones, B.B. paid attention to others' reactions to her behaviors, and quickly learned to use those reactions to manipulate situations to her advantage. She figured out that crying for Daddy instantly got her out of whatever scrape she was in.
Once I learned to keep my emotions in check at such statements, she persisted for awhile, but she eventually quit using them to get her way, or to distract me from a misbehavior, or to accomplish whatever ulterior motive du jour she had going. The days of using "Daddy's name in vain" are long past.
He's been gone over half her life. I don't think she "remembers" him in any concrete way, but I think she feels a loss of him just the same. After the song, she launched into an explanation of how her Daddy could look into the windows and see her, but she couldn't see him. I never offered this concept to her, but I wasn't surprised by it. B.B. has explained many concepts of death to me that she's gleaned from various sources over the years, some from obviously well-meaning folk, but I'd just as soon some of them had left the explaining to me.
For example: early on, someone told little 2 year-old B.B. that her Daddy had gone to live at "Jesus's House." That's a really nice sentiment, but to a 2 year-old, it meant that her Daddy had abandoned her to go live with this Jesus guy, this guy who up until then, had seemed like a pretty good dude. For some time there, B.B. was REALLY ticked off about this "Jesus House" place. Why was it so great that Daddy would stay there and wouldn't come home?
As she got older, it almost became comical. B.B. would say, "Mommy go work. Sissy go big school. Daddy at....JE-SUS HOUSE!" yelling the hated place with all the ticked off derision a 2 year-old can muster. I think she's forgotten that now... Jesus seems like a pretty good guy to her again. Still, if I need a good private joke snicker out of her sister, saying "JESUS HOUSE!" in my best ticked off voice always elicits a chuckle. That may not make sense to some. I suppose to us it's like a badge of honor: P.D. and I survived, and helped B.B. survive together.
I'm not sure that our loved ones "watch over us" after they're gone. I don't think the Bible says they pay attention to what's going on here on earth. (if I'm wrong, somebody tell me.) I know there have been times when I've really hoped Deat wasn't watching me, but there have also been times when I've really hoped he was. I'm not sure where B.B. got the "Daddy in the window" theory, but for now, this idea seems to comfort her, so I think I'll let her keep it for awhile.
We're doing okay. I think we've adjusted well over the past 3 years to our "just the three of us" lives. Sometimes, though, his presence is still felt. Sometimes, his absence is too.
She concluded her explanation with, "I miss Daddy."
"Me too, baby, me too."
Deat's Favorite Lullaby:
(don't forget to turn the player on the right off).
When I read this the first time, I was speechless... This time though I have to say I can completely understand her derision for JESUS HOUSE. People can be complete dolts sometimes - amazing how cruel people can be with what they sincerely believe is offered comfort. I'm so impressed that you've nurtured an environment where your girls are comfortable talking to you about their Daddy and missing him. I think that's important. So many people inadvertantly stifle that kind of openness in an attempt to move on with life. Hugs!
ReplyDeleteThanks T. People really do mean well, and I remember so well being one of those well-meaning people who didn't know what to say but just wanted so desperately to say or do SOMETHING to be of comfort. I don't hold the things they say against them, I just accept the spirit in which they say them. Harboring anger at well-meaning people would just make things worse!
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