9/27/2015
We went to the mountain to see the blood super moon tonight.
Standing on a ridge, watching the sun set on one side, while the moon rose on the other was amazing to me. To realize that on one side of the world people were watching our setting sun rise and our rising moon set at that exact same moment? Amazing. We're such a small planet, such a small world.
We drove fast, trying to get there before the moon rose. It was cold. So cold! If I had planned well I would have had you in your jammies, I would have made cocoa and brought blankets and cookies. I would have had pens and paints for you Jai and I would have taken a gazillion pictures and recorded everything you both said. But I didn't. I just threw you in the car and followed your father's obsession with the mountain up to the moon.
So many of my endeavors are vague, half formed after thoughts. I know somewhere in there is a good idea, something fun and miraculous, but it never comes out quite right. I dream in Pinterest perfection after the fact. I try and remember that it doesn't matter, that we're together and that you don't care. You are whooping it up, dancing and running around, excited because you get to pee on the trees and throw rocks and you don't care about any of those things. I try to stay here with you, but it's always a struggle.
On the way home we made you sit in the dark car, no lights for reading, no electronics, no music, no games, just us, the moon and the stars. In the dark, with the super moon looming over head, Jack, your soft, sad little voice croaked "Mom, I'm afraid of dying."
I didn't know what to say. You are too smart for platitudes and I don't want to lie to you. I'm afraid of dying too kiddo.
You said, "what if there's nothing after this? No heaven or hell, no nothing. What if this is just it?" and I felt so sad because, yeah man. What if this is it?
I don't have faith in religion. I don't believe there is anything beyond death. Sometimes I entertain a childish fantasy that sprites and magic, gods and angels are real, but I too struggle with the "what if" of nothingness.
What if?
My answer was pat and banal. "Well, I guess we just have to do the best we can now. We don't really know, so all we can do if be grateful for what we have."
You said, "Yeah, OK" to what I know was an unsatisfactory answer. It was all I had. I'm sorry.
We have no way of knowing one way or the other buddy. We just have this momentary day to day thing and the hope that more of these moments keep coming.
Whether there is life after death or not, try to be the best You each day.
I hope you don't beat yourselves up like I do. I hope you are more like your dad and just go to the mountain. I hope you return again and again to places that fuel you and inspire you. I hope you both just go for it.
And when you are 27 and 24 will you come back with me? Can we go back to the mountain and watch the next Super Moon together? I promise I'll bring treats.
We went to the mountain to see the blood super moon tonight.
Standing on a ridge, watching the sun set on one side, while the moon rose on the other was amazing to me. To realize that on one side of the world people were watching our setting sun rise and our rising moon set at that exact same moment? Amazing. We're such a small planet, such a small world.
We drove fast, trying to get there before the moon rose. It was cold. So cold! If I had planned well I would have had you in your jammies, I would have made cocoa and brought blankets and cookies. I would have had pens and paints for you Jai and I would have taken a gazillion pictures and recorded everything you both said. But I didn't. I just threw you in the car and followed your father's obsession with the mountain up to the moon.
So many of my endeavors are vague, half formed after thoughts. I know somewhere in there is a good idea, something fun and miraculous, but it never comes out quite right. I dream in Pinterest perfection after the fact. I try and remember that it doesn't matter, that we're together and that you don't care. You are whooping it up, dancing and running around, excited because you get to pee on the trees and throw rocks and you don't care about any of those things. I try to stay here with you, but it's always a struggle.
On the way home we made you sit in the dark car, no lights for reading, no electronics, no music, no games, just us, the moon and the stars. In the dark, with the super moon looming over head, Jack, your soft, sad little voice croaked "Mom, I'm afraid of dying."
I didn't know what to say. You are too smart for platitudes and I don't want to lie to you. I'm afraid of dying too kiddo.
You said, "what if there's nothing after this? No heaven or hell, no nothing. What if this is just it?" and I felt so sad because, yeah man. What if this is it?
I don't have faith in religion. I don't believe there is anything beyond death. Sometimes I entertain a childish fantasy that sprites and magic, gods and angels are real, but I too struggle with the "what if" of nothingness.
What if?
My answer was pat and banal. "Well, I guess we just have to do the best we can now. We don't really know, so all we can do if be grateful for what we have."
You said, "Yeah, OK" to what I know was an unsatisfactory answer. It was all I had. I'm sorry.
We have no way of knowing one way or the other buddy. We just have this momentary day to day thing and the hope that more of these moments keep coming.
Whether there is life after death or not, try to be the best You each day.
I hope you don't beat yourselves up like I do. I hope you are more like your dad and just go to the mountain. I hope you return again and again to places that fuel you and inspire you. I hope you both just go for it.
And when you are 27 and 24 will you come back with me? Can we go back to the mountain and watch the next Super Moon together? I promise I'll bring treats.
