I made the mistake of reading this post in the beginning of a work day. I couldn’t think after having read it. I couldn’t even feel right away. I was just stunned. I spent the next few minutes just paralyzed without knowing what to think or do.
I was “awakened” from that state by the sound of the door of my office opening with the arrival of my colleague, so I had to brush what I’ve just read from my mind and try to act normal. A busy day was ahead of me, so I really had to start forcing my brain to enter programming mode.
Thankfully, in this case, I had a very busy and stressful day, which allowed my brain to shun that story into oblivion. It was only later that day, as I was stuck in traffic, that the story came back to me. There I was, complaining that I was sick and tired of being stuck in traffic, when the story promptly comes back into my head. And I don’t know if it was the stress of the day or the simple fact that I simply haven’t been able to sleep well for over a week and was really, really tired, or (probably more to the point) that the story had touched me so profoundly, but I too wept the whole journey back home.
What affected me so much about this story was not only the fact that a little girl was going to die of a brain tumor. Was the way this little girl was confronting the situation. This was not one of those movie-like scenes where you see the child embracing the parents and saying beautiful things only kids, that still don’t understand death, say. This is the harsh truth of powerless parents that have to say to their little child that she is going to die and the child shows the most humane and heartbroken of reactions: she’s afraid to die.
And as a parent, this is the most awful moment in life: when you see your kids suffering and you feel powerless to help your kids. What do you do then? You just embrace them and weep with them.