Grieving isn’t something I’m comfortable talking about, but I’ve had to do it anyway. I lost my great aunt when I was 7 or 8. I don’t remember much except I saw a body in the middle of the room and people were crying. How do you explain to an 8-year-old that the person you just visited the previous weekend will no longer be around or that you will no longer be able to speak to her? I know it was hard for my mom to do, but she did her best to explain to me that death was a natural part of life and that I had to appreciate everything I had because you never know what could happen. Having been so young, it didn’t make sense to me.
A couple of years later, I was sitting in my 5th grade classroom, 3 days before my 11th birthday. I was learning math when within minutes I was in another classroom watching the World Trade Center towers being engulfed with smoke and flames. All I could think about was my mom because she worked within walking distance of the towers. It wasn’t long before both towers had collapsed. How is a child supposed to understand such a tragedy when just a few hours before, everything was normal? I didn’t lose anyone that day, but my heart was heavy for a while because I knew that hundreds of mothers wouldn’t return to their husbands, hundreds of children would never see their parents again, mothers and fathers would never get to tell their children they love them again, sisters and brothers lost their best friends. I was too damn young to witness that, but I was old enough to understand the world around me. Tomorrow isn’t promised, the world is becoming more and more dangerous, but age doesn’t hinder one’s ability to understand the truth.
