She's 3. And she is already so many things. She is 50% theatre and 50% nurturing. My dream for her is that she will find a stage and make it her own and then settle down and have 12 kids. I truly think she will need both of those things to be complete in life. Her imagination and antics are limitless, as is her compassion and nurturing capabilities. Most days she stresses me to no end. The little darling, I just want to throttle her.
But then, there are nights like tonight. Nights when she sobs for her little brother like nobody's business. You have to understand, even at 3, she loves the babies at the sitter's more than life itself. And her brother was HER baby. Her sole mission in life was to take care of him. To make him laugh and to keep him happy when it was asked of her, and believe me, as a single mom of three, unfortunately, it was asked. She not only rose to the occasion, she excelled. That little boy loved her. And her other brother as well. He beamed when he saw those two and life was good.
I remember after having Payton. Jack was 4, almost 5. I went outside for just a minute to talk on the phone and left Jack "in charge" of her. I could see them through the window and I was almost brought to my knees by the tenderness with which he treated her. With Kruex, multiply that feeling by 100. I had two kids that would do nothing less than love and protect their little brother. The feeling was just priceless.
So, while I understand that I have to suffer this loss, and I even understand that I have to get my other kids through it. Nights like tonight kill me. I don't know what part of the bargain this falls under. I lost one. I have to go through that and I accept it. Why do I have to watch my darling daughter grieve it too? She is *supposed* to be too young to hurt this much. She is *supposed* to get past it.
But she isn't.
And I'm not either.
And how do I explain to work that I have to come in late because Payton wants to go to the cemetary when we wake up?