The fact or process of losing something or someone
"Finally, chemotherapy has led to Aria's hair loss. It's coming out in waves. Ha ha, get it? Waves." she said.The state or feeling of grief when deprived of someone or something of value.
I sense a loss that Aria's cancer has so muted my excitement toward Lyric's major milestones. My oldest child finally has her first wobbly tooth and I could barely feign interest in her six-year-old smile.The detriment or disadvantage resulting from losing
The loss of all my coworkers -- because I've had to lay off every one of them -- has left me numb, demotivated, and uninspired.gain
Lyric is 6. We are two images in an infinity mirror. I understand why she has a hard time. My comfort is that I already know she'll do better than I do. My hope is that I help that more than I hurt.
Aria is 4. Just eighteen months ago, I didn't have much meaningful to say about her. That hurts to hear, and hurts more to say. She smiled brightly. She was "nice" and "normal," and that was a relief.
But the benefit arrival of this new being who didn't do things for ME (She didn't talk. She didn't cuddle.) was unclear to me. She needed to be more than sibling for the first one. But I regularly felt a loss in that I couldn't find something important, unique, or heartwarming to say about her.
I hate how I interpreted her simplicity as mediocrity, but I also hated how I took comfort in it, as well -- in being glad she didn't express anything exceptional, including some sort of needs to be deciphered or managed.
At 2-1/2, she became both chatty and affectionate. Now we were getting somewhere. A change of schools may have made the difference. But maybe she was just biding her her time. Maybe she's not impatient like the rest of us. Even her stubborn streaks were fun, wicked, and lovely.
At 2-1/2, she became both chatty and affectionate. Now we were getting somewhere. A change of schools may have made the difference. But maybe she was just biding her her time. Maybe she's not impatient like the rest of us. Even her stubborn streaks were fun, wicked, and lovely.
By 3, I was becoming smitten. Smitten, for me, is better than "nice" or "normal" feelings. I love a good deep feeling. A little bit of drama. I wanted to be smitten, and I was.
But Lyric was still the full-time job after my full-time job, and Aria was still doing her own thing. Aria became the "wonderfully easy child" who "never needs anything." That wasn't the whole of our local Lifetime Special, but it well summarized the dailies.
At 3-1/2, Aria was diagnosed with cancer. We've spent the last half-year creating new space together. Long days, weeks at the hospital, together, unproductively pushing through the worst.
But Lyric was still the full-time job after my full-time job, and Aria was still doing her own thing. Aria became the "wonderfully easy child" who "never needs anything." That wasn't the whole of our local Lifetime Special, but it well summarized the dailies.
At 3-1/2, Aria was diagnosed with cancer. We've spent the last half-year creating new space together. Long days, weeks at the hospital, together, unproductively pushing through the worst.
But they don't feel like the worst at all. They are the gift of time with my "easy" kid. Here I get to find her soul, her heart, her depth, her uniqueness. Here I even find the parts of my husband I rarely have time to access and appreciate much lately. Here I can't think of much else than memorizing the light in her green eyes.
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