Zaara's Closet

A Card for Your Mummy

This posting is completely unrelated to the topic I write about in this blog. But I had to write. Elizabeth Edwards died yesterday. I didn’t know her. I didn’t follow her life, her activities, the events in her life. She was a stranger (in fact, I was unaware that she had died until I got back home from work in the evening). Still her death filled me with sadness. Not just because another life was lost but because, at 61, she had died too young. Her children were too young to be without a mother.

One is never prepared for the death of a parent, whatever one’s age (or the parent’s). I was sad because I too was young when my Mum passed. Sixteen years on, I still cannot use the word “died” in conjunction with her.  I used to say “left,” but it occurred to me one day that there was a connotation there that she had chosen to go, or that she had “upped and left,” which was not the case. I too was young when my Mum passed.

Strangely enough, when I got home from work yesterday, Zaara ran to me waving a card. “Is that for me?” I asked. “Oh, no,” she replied. “Not for you. Not for my teachers. It’s for your Mummy.” I was shocked. She is 3 ½, but she knows about my Mummy:  she had “passed,” she “was lost,” she “lived in pictures and in my heart.” She added, “You give it to her. She’ll be very happy, and she’ll come back to you.” My eyes filled with tears and I hugged her. She said, “It’s ok, Mummy. When she comes back, you hug her and I promise she’ll kiss you.” I went upstairs to email my brothers and sister (they are my rock) and read about Elizabeth Edwards’ death on MSN. I was filled with an overwhelming sadness. Two of her children are very young. I too was young when I lost my Mum.