I’m sure half of you is having a mini panic attack just by reading the title of this post. Death is something so difficult to talk about, and I DID NOT choose to talk about it with Monday. He wanted me to read one of the Fairytales in Chinese that I bought for him in attempt to 1. teach him mandarin / chinese, 2. improve my mandarin reading skills (loll not going well since all I do is read the pinyin ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) 

The Little Matchgirl (Short 2006) - IMDb

If you don’t know this classic tale, it’s basically about a girl who sell matches in the winter and couldn’t sell any and couldn’t go home. She decided to sit in the cold and lit all her matches while fantasizing about warmth, food and lastly love from her late grandmother. She obviously died; and that was it. WHAT A FUTILE AND SAD STORY. Seriously some of Hans Anderson’s stories are just painfully pointless. I honestly don’t know what the moral of the story is. To not sell matchsticks?

When I told Monday that she saw her grandmother and lit all her matches so she could hug her grandmother, and then died — Monday’s face went flat white.

“She die?”

Me: Yea..

Monday: Awh that’s so sad. I don’t want her to die. Why she die?

Continue reading “Discussin ‘Death’ with my 4 year old.”

It was a great weekend, one that I would miss.
Though what was ahead I could not have guessed,
The inevitable misfortune of the fortunate soul.
Against a battle that cannot be won, we have all been told.

As I walked in the air was heavy,
Silence was ringing, and the light felt hazy.
Where have he gone? We all asked what we knew.
Another farewell in the room; and it was from you.

You’re my first last goodbye, I have had many then.
I have held hands as they go, both women and men.
But all I could remember is you, for you are my first inevitable lost.
You might not remember me however, as the fairies were with you.

On good days you spoke to me, of your home you wish to see.
I sat and listen to your tales, feeling sorry that you can’t be.
On bad days you called the only name you knew,
But she is on another side, waiting for you.
I hope now you could be together again,
Or at least every now and then.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there, when you breathe your last breath.
Without a family left beside you, or even just a friend.
Was it frightening or liberating, I never cease to wonder.
To know there’s no one left behind, to neither mourn nor cry.

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