There are two people who get me, really get me in this world. The other one is my oldest son.

He has an exceptional sensitivity to read my emotions through any façade or brave face I might be trying to pull off. Whilst I could fool the rest of the world rather fluently, him – not.

Just the other day I put on a new song in the car. It’s Spanish, which he doesn’t understand, and not especially sad in melody. But the lyrics really hit a cord in me – I wanted to cry but fought back tears as my tears make my boys sad.

My son was sitting behind me in the car. He couldn’t even see my face. But from the position of my neck or the angle of the stars, he got it straight away.

“Maman. As soon as the car stops I’ll give you a very big hug.” he said quietly. I glanced at him – how on earth did he know, again – and he looked back with his concerned, innocent eyes. He knew.

Just like when my father passed away.

When I came home after, I’d struggled in advance on how to explain death to my little children. Tried to find words honest, yet comforting. Firmly decided that while crying with the children was ok, collapsing in front of them was not.

My son took one look at me as I stepped in. His lips started shaking and his eyes welled in tears. “Pappa has died”. I didn’t need to say anything.

There we sat on the floor and cried in each other’s arms.

It’s a rare blessing in disguise. I can’t really afford to be miserable or unhappy anymore as no matter how hard I might try to hide it, he will sense it. And my sorrow becomes his.

So I owe it to him to find peace and happiness within myself. As they become his as well. 

Huh.

~*♥*~