My cousin Julie just shared on Facebook with us a poem our Grandmother had written for her Grandchildren (we were many). My Grandmother passed when I was just 7 or 8 and I haven’t got many memories left of her. What I do remember was always feeling safe, warm, and so very loved by her. Reading this today brought all those feelings flooding right back. I miss her even on days I don’t realize it.
Beloved child of mine
you are loved
I will never leave you
the darkness around you
will not destroy you
my weapons are of light
And nothing on earth
can penetrate your spirit.
You are mine.
Cadence sat alone on the floor. Situated in the corner of her room, legs pulled up into her chest, she rested her head on her knees and sobbed. She had no idea how she had gotten there or why she was crying. The only thing she knew in that moment was an overwhelming sense of sadness and that she had been here before. Nothing of any particular significance had happened that day. She woke up, went to school, ate lunch with her friends, answered three questions correctly in class, and stopped to chat with crossing guard on her way home. When she arrived home, she kissed her mother and father, patted her husky on his head and went upstairs to her room. It was only when she closed the door behind her that the weight of the world came crashing down on top of her. It was an unbearable weight that forced her to the ground. That was when she sought solace in the corner.
As she continued to sob, Cadence thought of every happy image that she could muster. She thought of her mother and father. She loved them more than anything in the world. She thought of the day her parents let her pick out Orwell, her husky. She thought of kissing Jessie Hopkins behind the Social Studies portable. She thought of her best friend Kyla. They’d done everything together and had never been in a fight. She thought of rainbows and kittens and warm woollen mittens, but nothing could stop her steady stream of tears. She was convinced that she was broken. She wanted to scream out for help but had no idea how to explain to anyone what was wrong. If she told her parents she was sad, they’d ask her why, and she would have no answer for them. She just was. She couldn’t handle someone telling her to “buck up” or that her life was wonderful. She knew her life was wonderful. That fact made her feel even worse for being sad. She scolded herself between each sob.
There was a knock at her door. Cadence ignored it at first hoping that the person on the other side would take the hint. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. She had cancelled plans in the past to avoid the inevitable questions people would have if and when she began to cry uncontrollably. Most days she wouldn’t, but the days when she could feel it coming, she just wanted to be alone. There was a second knock and then a third. Cadence couldn’t move and she wasn’t sure she wanted to any way. There wasn’t a fourth knock. Cadence felt a small amount of relief but a larger feeling of regret crept in.
Ten minutes passed when a piece of paper slid beneath Cadence’s door. She looked over at it with an intense curiosity. It seemed as though her body was going to allow her to move just enough to pick it up. She slid herself out of the corner far enough to reach the note. She picked it up and read it.
“Our dearest Cadence,
You are not broken. We are here for you when you are ready to talk. We will ALWAYS be here for you.
Your loving, devoted, ADORING, parents.”
Cadence held the note tight to chest and closed her eyes and breathed. She wasn’t ready yet, but she had hope that she soon would be. The weight of the world was too much to bear for one person. She knew that now.