What can I take from this?

Ever since I had learned about Natasha Richardson’s accident, I had been on pins and needles, having checked at various points in the day the status updates on the internet. Even though I knew it couldn’t be the case, I kept hoping for a miracle, that perhaps it would wind up being nothing. When I found out she had died, I felt an intense sadness, almost nauseous and woke up numerous times that first night. In fact, it was the first thing I thought up immediately upon waking. I had no connection to NR at all in my life except that years ago I had a huge crush on Liam Neeson. Why has this struck me so? There are so many tragedies, so many horrors I read about in my daily newspapers. What about this one has me unable to shake a terrible feeling?

And in fact, after speaking to some people, I see I am not the only one.

Gary thought maybe I connected with the mother part of her and that I felt for her children. I didn’t agree, strangely, though I do feel terrible for them but for some reason, I’m not thinking about that as much. In addition to feeling so terrible for Liam who had to fly to her at a time when it was too late to connect and wondering how long they’d been apart before that (the loss of the love of your life), I am struck by the overwhelming sense of how death takes all of us, and there are no preparations. She was on vacation with her children, she had plans to be on Broadway upcoming again, perhaps she had dinner plans that evening and more fun in store the next day. Death doesn’t care that you had plans, doesn’t care who you are.

Emma has been asking about death a lot lately. I am taking advice from a child therapist who said to make the point be known that Emma will never be alone, as that is probably the primary fear when she thinks about death or going to heaven. I speak to her of the spirit going to heaven and all the beautiful things there, but in truth, my real feelings about it are more scientific and factual. I don’t want her to fear, but yet she asks questions that are deeper than her years. I had always told her that we live very long long lives and if you are very very old or very ill and your body is failing, those people will go to heaven. I tell her on a Need to Know basis. But she has come to me with grim discoveries that came to her at her own timeframe – Mommy, did you know that she went to heaven when she was 7? How could that be? And recently, she heard of a 2 year old dying and couldn’t believe it. It opened up the door for me to talk about accidents. I have not yet officially told her we all die, though I know the fear of one of us leaving her is tantamount and she gets that this could be the case. I know she is as sensitive to it as I am. My 8 year old nephew the other day told both my kids that they will die, that we all do. Emma was shocked and in disbelief. Going back to the advice of the therapist, I just focused on us having such long long lives ahead of us, and we live safe lives. I was hoping that in some part of her mind, she will absorb what I’d told her in the past, that “at the end of a very very long long life” people go to heaven — without me having to cause fear and actually say it. I then told her how we live in each other’s hearts and we are always together, even when we are not.

I, who sometimes feels so panicky about the finality of it all, can not tell more than this to Emma at this time. She is so sensitive that she has cried empathetic tears for me when I have told her stories of my grandmothers who have passed. In that same episode, months back, she did show a fear that it would happen to one of us. She puts on the jaunty hat of my Grandma Elsie (one of the items I have of hers) and feels a sadness even though she never met her.

Emma has implored of me that if she is ever to go to heaven that I am to grab onto her legs and pull her down. Please, Mom, please! I have cried with her and again stated, we are always together. It also had allowed me the chance to tell her how the body is not needed in heaven, but it is just the spirit, all the goodness in you that goes on. She simply says to me “I just don’t get it Mom!”

About 6 months ago, she agained begged me to grab her legs back and I told her that wherever she goes, I’ll be there, that we’ll be together. She got the sense that I was in fact saying “Yes, we too will one day experience heaven” and she cried tears that were true fear and panic she couldn’t get a hold of herself. So much, that I took it back, all I said and said no one is going to die Emma, we are all okay. I felt terrible. Maybe if she asked Gary these hard questions, they would be answered better. I had bought all these books about how to teach about the birds and the bees to a young child, when they begin to ask questions (and she has in small ways) — but I never knew I’d have to prep myself in reading books on teaching the concepts of death to a young child. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it, and knock on wood, they have not yet experienced it personally in our lives. That is always a natural lesson, one I don’t want to think about now.

These are the times when I long for faith of those who are very religious. Emma is wise in so many ways. Despite having learned about G-d at Hebrew school and through things I say and what we read, she doesn’t get it at all. Her mind is too factual and mathematical. She only believes what she sees and really struggles. She is not one to believe just to believe. I know the children of my more religious friends know that when they go to heaven they will be with G-d, and that is fine for them. Again, even if Emma had strong beliefs, it’s the fear of not being with us, the people she knows, sees, feels and believes that cause worry. Her family, what she sees and knows, is the only things she believes.

Emma has been fearful of death since age 4.5 when her tactless Pre-K teacher told the class point blank that Abe Lincoln went to see a show and was shot in the back of the head while sitting in his chair and died. This was at a time when I had been going to a lot of Broadway shows. At age 4.5, i couldn’t understand why Emma was so fearful each time I left the house to go somewhere. Finally, she asked me — won’t you be shot in the head when you are sitting in your chair? That led me to the discussion about terrible people in the world and assured her that we surround ourselves with good people.

I know I’m not doing it perfectly, but I also know the limitations of my daughter. And at 6.5, I just don’t think she can handle as much as she portends to want to know. I have asked other friends and their kids do not speak or think about death nearly to the degree that Emma questions it. Emma is not morbid, she is simply a thinker. One who does get the gist of it. We speak about pets dying or even bugs, but it’s the people and our family that put her in a state of panic — it’s the best word I know to describe the sudden realization of one day not being with us.

I often talk about living a worthy life with her and doing our best and being present. Because I think ultimately, in the end, our fear is about not living and experiencing our potential. We all take the same path ultimately, and our greatest blessing is that we all do, in fact, get to grow old peacefully.

I just want to live presently every day — to have health and love each day, to not sweat the small stuff, to live by example, to experience more real moments with Gary, to have my children use their experience here as a blessing, with the knowledge that it *is* in fact one time around, to get the chance to bring home our little boy, to have made a difference while here, to have the good things I want to do in this life played out, and for us all to ultimately grow to be old, wise and wonderful older people and know that we played a wonderful role in the story of life.

May Natasha Richardson rest in peace. May her family find peace in time for a life that was well lived and loved. May each day bring them some healing from this tragic loss. Amen.

Did I hear anyone say Aunt Flo must be coming to town? Boy, she must …