Parent's aren't super heroes
I realized that when I was in my twenties, my father was
valiantly battling a form of leukemia and my mother was helpless to stop it
from destroying his body
From the time I was little I recall a steadfast belief that
my parents would live forever. Mom, with her nursing background could cure
anything. Dad the athlete the jock was impervious to illness. Leaving all their
strength for keeping my older brother and I from harm.
Then that Christmas came. Dad was diagnosed. A simple
phone call. I watched in silence, brooding and deep, as my illusion crumbled.
They were just human. Mom couldn't cure this cancer in Dad's blood and bones
with a kiss. Her ineffectiveness was clear. It crippled her, it crippled us.
Now my husband has injured his shoulder, damaged rotator
cuff. His livelihood dictates that he use his upper body all day. I am
powerless to stop his pain.
Are my 2 kids witnessing the death of a long standing
childhood myth? He is 6 going on 7, she is not yet 3. How are they interpreting
this change in our family rhythm?
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