No, Raven’s not sick right now but this was her sometime last year when she suddenly spiked a fever. I remember us on the couch — her lying down with a cooling gel she calls “cold band-aid” stuck on her forehead and me sitting there next to her fighting the urge to desperately worry because that’s what moms naturally do: worry about their kids. Especially when they’re sick.
But she was a real trooper. She truly was.
That was what she said to me as if I was ever going to leave her side. It struck me how considerate she was, informing me of her whereabouts even when we both knew she was just going to be on the couch the whole day with her favourite shows playing on the background while she rested.
Once in a while she would talk and ask questions. The heavy ones, too.
I normally don’t shy away from conversing with her about death and dying as there really is no way to sugarcoat such universal truth but on this day, at that very moment, I didn’t wanna discuss it. I mean, not like that. Not in that context.
I forgot what I said to her after. Chances are, I probably didn’t say anything. Because the interminable grief at the thought of losing her already broke my heart into irreparable pieces there was simply no words for it.
No, I didn’t wanna go there. I love my daughter so much, you have no idea.
*Raven at 5 years old