Marigold

Marigold

She looked at the peacefully sleeping 3 year old in his tiny bed. So content and oblivious to the storm that was about to alter the rest of his little life. Unable to sleep, she just gazed at her blond little boy as tears dripped softly out of the corner of her eyes. She could not sleep agonizing over the coming day. She didn’t know if she could do what needed to be done. And yet she must.

Climbing awkwardly into her own bed, she nestled her growing abdomen on the body pillow and feigned sleep. She knew she needed it. The baby needed it. Yet slumber hovered at an illusive distance.

She must have dozed because before she knew it her little boy was standing at her bedside poking her shoulder. “Sun is up,” he calmly assured her. And it was. It didn’t seem to matter that their lives had shattered into a million pieces, the sun had continued to rise the past three days. Smiling wistfully at her precious toddler she knew she didn’t have it in her to break his heart.

“What’s wrong mommy?'' he brushed the tiny tear from her eye and wrapped chubby little arms around her neck. “I wuv you.” She turned and hugged him tight. “I love you so so much.” He wriggled out of her tight grasp and ran to the kitchen, hungry no doubt.

Mothers did what they had to do even if they were not capable of doing them. Someone told her to just keep moving forward. One step at a time. She kept doing that. Literally. Forcing her tired body to rise and dress and provide food for her little brood.

Everyone else knew and was in a stupor of disbelief. There were 5 children if you counted the one soon to be born. She stumbled to the kitchen on autopilot. Pouring cereal. Wiping up a spill. Avoiding the hard stare of her 14 year old daughter and her whispered, “When are you going to tell him?” she felt another tear slip out. “I’m sorry mama,” her daughter wrapped her arms around the mom and her enlarged belly. “I will.” she murmured into her daughter’s hair. “I’m trying to find the courage.”

“Where’s daddy?” asked Nolan. Everyone froze.

“He’s not here right now.” the mom responded calmly though it sounded like she might choke on the words..

“But I want him.” And Nolan looked lonesome. He was used to his dad taking short business trips but he’d been gone three days now and the little boy was anxious for his very best buddy to come and play with him, tossing him in the air and then when they were done the two of them would sit in front of the computer and watch their favorite music videos. Somehow the busy three year old did not find this boring. Maybe because he was in the lap of the most important person in his little world.

“Girls, you clean up the kitchen please. Nolan, let's go for a walk in the neighborhood.”

Helping him with his tiny shoes, the mother stood slowly. They exited the house together, her holding his hand just a little too tightly. Still grasping for the strength for what she must do.

Nolan chattered incessantly but she barely noticed. She knew she had to do it early in the walk so he had time to process a tiny bit before they turned for home. How on earth would he process anything? She wondered. He is three for goodness sake. They came to the part of the walk with sidewalks and small grassy ditches between the road and the walkway.

She paused. Lifting this precious human to rest on her belly and staring into his deep hazel eyes. She hugged him while he wiggled, not knowing how to say what needed to be said.

“Be honest,” the counselor had suggested. “Don’t use any euphemisms for death. Just tell the truth and let him ask questions. You don’t want to add fear of dying to his little life.”

She couldn’t do it.

She had to.

He had to hear it from her.

“Hey buddy,” she began softly. He looked at her sad sad eyes.

“I have to tell you something hard.”

“Daddy is not coming home anymore.” He looked bewildered and her chest felt tight like she couldn't say another word. She inhaled.

“Daddy’s heart stopped working because it had a problem and he died.” She hated that word. Why did she have to use that wretched word?

“But, I miss my daddy.” he didn’t cry. He just seemed stunned. Shocked. He wiggled down from her arms and sat in the small ditch behind the mailboxes. There was a stray marigold growing on the edge of the grass and he picked it. Holding it tightly in his little fist. She lowered herself to the grass beside him and wrapped an arm around little Nolan, who seemed suddenly smaller than ever. How does a boy grow up without a daddy? She wondered. Especially a dad he was so close to?

“You are safe and healthy. And mama is safe and healthy too. But we will be so sad and we will miss daddy so much.”

He had no questions. Just a droop to his shoulders that a three year old should never have to feel. They walked further and the mama talked about how much his daddy loved him. She talked about their favorite songs. And promised to watch the daddy songs with him when they got home. She said that daddy would be in heaven with God in a beautiful place and one day in a very very very long time we will see him again. She didn’t remember what else they talked about. Her already broken heart was torn again in so many pieces watching this devastated little man clutching the marigold that seemed to droop in unison with his broken heart.

* * * * *

Somehow they made it through those early days, and weeks, and months. A new baby girl was welcomed to the family and brought joy and a reason to wake up each day.

The whole family made it a habit to walk through the neighborhood together most days. And as the years passed they healed slowly and the children grew.

One day when Nolan was 7 years old, he stopped short in the middle of the walk and stared at a lone little marigold growing under a mailbox in a ditch along the familiar path of their walk.

“Look!” He pointed at the flower and looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Is that the ditch where daddy died?” Puzzled, the mom assured him that “daddy didn’t die in a ditch.” But Nolan was quiet and serious and insistent. He reached down and plucked the flower from the dirt and as his fist closed around the stem, tears began to pour out of his eyes.

Scooping the thin little boy into her arms, she remembered as if it were yesterday. This was the exact spot where she first told him his daddy was never coming home again. Unconcerned by passersby or neighbors, she allowed the tiny little man to sob on her shoulder. The older kids kept walking with the 4 year old girl whom they had named Marigold, after her father’s favorite flower, while the boy and his mom turned and walked slowly home together. Nolan put his wilting flower into a vase on the table and they sat down together in Daddy’s favorite chair and watched Nolan’s Daddy songs until the others came home.

“Marigold,” Nolan called as the others entered the house. “Did I ever tell you why mama named you Marigold?” Smiling because she loved the story every single time, she ran to her big brother and clambered, “Tell me again, tell me again.” So sitting on the floor with Marigold on his little lap, he told her all about her amazing daddy, and when he got to the part about her name, he stopped and pointed to the table where the flower had perked up in the vase of water. “And that’s why you have the most beautiful name in the whole wide world,” he whispered, gently kissing the top of her curly head.

* * * * *

One of Nolan's many Daddy Songs