Swirl Girl from Swirl Girl's Pearls lives not far from me. She's basically a Los Angeleno although maybe she doesn't consider herself one. I'm not sure. I know there is only about a 30-40 minute drive that separates us and yet the only place we have connected as of yet is through our blogs. The blogosphere's cool like that. Hopefully we'll share a drink together sometime soon. For now, she is sharing a bit of her heart with us in this Affiliate Friday post. It's a different tone than her usual fare but she always speaks straight and true, in MWOB fashion, and that's why we adore her. Thanks, Swirl Girl for jumping in on this fine Friday.
In our humble town (and not only here,but around the country as of late) there was a tragedy - of epic proportion. A young father facing economic ruin in the throes of a nasty divorce and job loss killed his two young children before taking his own life. Emily Rose, my 10 year old, was asking me if that would ever happen to us. At that point, I wasn't sure if she meant the divorce part or what. So I answer. "Sure Dad and I fight sometimes...but we fight because we care. I think it's important to be open - because if you hold things in - they fester and you wind up resenting the other one."
Then she asked if I had ever contemplated suicide, and she used those very words. I told her that as many times in my life as I have been depressed or angry about anything (and there have been quite a few) I never thought there was no light at the end of the tunnel. I always knew that something would change, whether magical, mystical or spiritual , and I would be okay.
Emily Rose said there was a positive side to this tragic story - She said in her very 10 year old way, that the only good thing to come from this story was that the children don't have to suffer anymore. "Because," she said, "if the father had something genetically wrong with him - at least the cycle stopped because his children wouldn't pass it down to their children."
That my 10 year old even fathoms the concept of depression as a genetic illness scares the crap out of me. Such big words and bigger concepts . I don't think when I was 10, I worried about much - okay, maybe I did. But my worries were more along the line of hoping that nobody outed me for actually liking the chicken fricasse on the hot lunch line at school, or if that boy really 'like-liked' me. Or would I ever get boobs. At 10 years old, you should just not have to be sad for anything other than stuff like that.
It's sad that these young children were yanked from the innocence of childhood and slammed into adulthood. It is sad that some adults are saddled with sadness and depression so great that it crescendoed and culminated in that horrific act of violence. It is sad that our community has been rocked by this tragedy.
So, the next time I complain about our shrinking household economy, or that Hubby has to work late again, or that nobody listens to me when I talk around here - I, for one, will try to remember this conversation I had with my daughter. I hope I can use my words more carefully. She is listening...maybe too much.
If life could only be swirled like a wine glass to release its bouquet or decanted to let the sediment fall to bottom only to savor the best juice intended.