I toss and turn, feeling heated on a cool summer night. Crickets are chirping. Cars zoom by. This is usually how the night sounds, but for some reason, I can’t fall asleep.
My eyes blink open.
What??? It’s 3am already?
I close my eyes again and sigh, wishing for sleep to take me away to a place where I no longer have to think or worry or feel. A place of pure quietness and peace. But despite my best efforts to count sheep, drink warm milk and do whatever it is people say, nothing has worked.
So I do the only thing I can do:
I wait.
But as I do so, part of me begins to fall apart. Why me? I thought. Am I the only one suffering through this?
Tears slowly trickle down my cheeks as my head becomes heavy. I can no longer hold it in.
What would happen if mom wasn’t there? If one day, she got into an accident or fell sick or reached the end of her life? Would dad be sad? Would he be lonely? Who would take care of the house? Who would be there for me? How would my sisters react?
As an eight-year old kid, it’s terrifying how I’ve already understood death and what it would be like to lose someone close to me, especially when no one has sat down to talk to me about this matter nor…
