Life After You And Me

Unveiling the Shadows

I continue, but,

 "Mommy, why are you sad? Who's Aunt Mimi?"

Zoe asks in a voice filled with innocence and curiosity.

I take a deep breath. I guess this is the part where I explain death to my 2-and-a-half-year-old.

"Aunt Mimi was my sister. She was a beautiful soul who brought so much joy and laughter to our lives. But she had to leave us, and it still makes me sad sometimes."

My daughter's eyes search mine, as if trying to comprehend the weight of my emotions.

"Will she come back, Mommy?"
A lump forms in my throat and I try hard to fight back tears.

"No, sweetheart. She won't come back, but she'll always be with us in our hearts and memories."

We sit on the stone, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the cemetery as I share stories of Mimi with my daughter.

I tell her about the mischievous adventures we embarked on as children, the secrets we whispered under blankets when she would sneak into my bed late at night, and the dreams we shared for the future.

My sadness soon begins to mingle with bittersweet nostalgia as I realize that even in death, Mimi's spirit continues to shape my life.

Zo and I laugh at the stories, and without a single thread of warning, she asks,

"When will we visit your parents, Mommy? You promised we would."

I did promise her. But in my defense, I didn't consider, not for one second, that my mother would reject my daughter too.

I made my bed and I'm lying in it. Zoe on the other hand is as innocent as they come. She hasn't got a fault to her sweet self and she doesn't deserve to suffer the consequences of my actions.

My mother hasn't returned my call. I know she heard the voicemail because she despises a full mailbox. She used to call it hoarding.

"Mom?"
I hear little Zoe call sweetly. Getting me out of my head.

How do I break the news to her? How do I tell my 2-year-old that her only living grandparents don't seem to want anything to do with her?

Olli lost both her parents and mine can't even acknowledge my daughter's existence.

"Sweetheart, your grandparents are very busy people. They can't wait to see you too. But for now, we're going to have to wait, ok?"

I'd be damned if I let my daughter think she's at fault for something that has nothing to do with her. I know I will need to tell her the truth at some point but she's too young now.

"Ok, mommy."
Zoe sings with a smile plastered on her face and I can't help but think, 'It's their loss.'

As we prepare to leave, Zo and I place single white roses on Mimi's grave, a token of the enduring love that persists even in death.

And with a heavy heart, I finally stand up and take my daughter's hand, leading her away from the shadows of the past and into the light of the present.