Lessons of love and hermit crabs.

My sons are singing. Loudly. 

It's a mash up rendition of Waltzing Matilda/the Australian National Anthem, the Cowboys team song and les Miserables. 

Yes. That's how they roll. 

Did I mention that it's early morning... And it's loud? 

So I'm listening to them. Wanting to stop the loud but actually loving it.

I read something yesterday that said "Happy children sing".

And it got me wondering how my sons are going. 

I get asked the question on a daily basis, so it's something that is always on the borders of my thoughts. 

I watch them and worry over the lack of tears, or the flood of tears.

I observe and listen and discuss....

How are my boys?

How are they navigating these moments of tough? 

Well.

 Let's just say that I'm learning so much about life, death and the moments of grief from these little men.

Let me share with you a couple of these lessons:

LESSON ONE:

I'm learning that love is stronger than the last breath a person takes.

Sheldon was sent thousands of cards in that August-leaning-in birthday month. And amongst them was a CD from an artist we have always loved.

Sheldon had already planned his funeral when he opened this gift. He'd picked the plot he wanted to be his final earthly, geographical spot. He'd told the funeral director he didn't want any babies breathe in the flowers... 

All we had to do was find a song.

I already knew what song we'd use to say goodbye to him. 

But he wanted a song that would say everything his heart whispered.

So.. We were driving along, the new CD gift playing and a song started. 

And we started to cry. 

And then I started to sob.

"This.... This is the one.." He said.

I nodded.

It said everything his heart whispered.

Here's what it says:

The worth of a man isn't measured in minutes

It's a journey that's measured in years

And it doesn't matter where you begin

As long as it brings you here.

You'll learn more from getting it wrong

Then you ever do getting it right

And you tell your life story 

With the love you leave behind

Before my time comes

I'm gonna leave some sign that I was here

Won't be what I owned

A fancy home

A car

Or my career

If I've lived and loved too hard 

I've made good use of my time

I'll make the world a better place

With the love I leave behind

The worth of a man isn't measured in things

It's secret and silent and strong

It's in the pride that you take in your name

And the children who carry it on

You can live on this planet for 80 odd years

But it's only a moment in time

You tell your life story

With the love you leave behind..

(The love I leave behind. Graeme Connors. Kindred spirit album. ***do yourself a favour and get this song****)

 Oh.. The beautiful power of a song. 

The way the art of melody and lyric can capture the essence of what we need to express. 

It speaks of the shadowed parts of our hearts, where mere words are incapable of capturing and communicating meaning. Those parts of our heart... They need music. They need the rise and fall. The heartbeat of timing and rhythm. 

It was a spectacular moment.

At his funeral...

This song and the pictures of his life that played on those big screens.

His message was clear.

And it's a message.. The great lesson that my boys remind me of.

Love is stronger than death.

Love didn't stop when his heart did.

Love didn't get buried at plot 19, Mt. Bassett cemetery. 

His life story is shouted everyday, on display for everyone to see....

It's found in this love that his sons grip fiercely.

The adoration that they have for him..

The deep, beautiful knowledge that he loved them with an overwhelming love.

It's a lesson that I hear when they speak about him... The love... The mountains of unconditional love. 

Yes. I'm learning about love.

I'm also learning about death. 

LESSON TWO:

I'm learning that death is easy to understand when you know about hermit crabs. 

I've been worried about Matthew.

He's 8. 

And he's such a gentle heart. 

He's so calm. 

His brothers raged and pleaded and released their daddy on that tough, final Saturday.

Matthew was calm. 

And in the past weeks, I've worried that he just doesn't understand what has happened. 

I've laid awake nights and wondered what strategies I should employ to break his calmness down so that he can cry, so that he can grieve..  and so that he can finally come to that realisation that his dad is gone. (Because, I mean, mothers know best right??!!?)

It was my birthday this week. 

(Thanks for the birthday love by the way...it helped)

Wednesday night, my stunning sons dressed in suit jackets and took me to our favourite Italian spot.

It was such a lovely night.

On the drive home, I thanked my three boys for making the day lovely- and I told them that their daddy would be so proud of the way they were treating their princess mummy. 

And then... We just started talking about their dad.

How he had made a cake for my birthday last year that had been covered, and I mean COVERED in the sweetest icing we'd ever tasted. It was ridiculously sweet. And he was a sweet heart. 

And after we laughed about the icing, the conversation lulled. 

And then Matthew said this-

"Hey mum.... You know how we had hermit crabs in that fish tank at Uncle Brendan and Jimmy's place?"

I "uh-huh-ed".

"Well... I reckon that dying is like what happens to the hermit crab.."

I waited.

"You know... The hermit crab lives in his shell and everyone looks at the shell and thinks that's what the hermit crab is. The big shell. But then the hermit crab leaves the shell and moves to a new one. And the shell is just a shell but the hermit crab is always a hermit crab. The shell doesn't make it a hermit crab. The shell is just a shell...."

I was speechless.

And breathless.

My calm, gentle Matthew had just expressed something so profound. So true. 

I didn't speak.

He continued.

"And it's like what happened with dad. He left his shell because it was broken. Sometimes hermit crabs look for a new shell if theirs is too small or broken. Dads was so broken, hey mum??" 

I'm sobbing silently by now. Not an easy task to swallow back those deep sobs and smile at my 8 year old calm, gentle boy.

Yes... I wanted to scream... So broken. So ravaged by disease. 

I kept silent.

"And... Dad is still dad. Just like the hermit crab is still the same hermit crab. They just leave their broken shell."

Oh... Can I express the beautiful agony of this conversation?

I heard the Lesson that my Matthew-the-calm-and -brave needed to teach me.

Sometimes it's good to leave the broken shell.

The heart, the soul, the spirit... They just moved out of the broken shell.

Moved home to a perfect shell.

One that will not fade or falter.

That's the lesson of the hermit crab.

It's beautiful huh?

So.. It's taken me a couple of days to finish this letter to you..

The tears made it hard to see the screen.

I cry when I write

of my boys.

When I think of the bravery.

The character of strength.

The loud.

The calm.

The naughty.

The love.

I've heard their lessons this week.

They have sewn deep into my heart's fabric.

The lesson of a fierce love that no last breath can diminish.

The lesson of the hermit crab and his broken shell..

So... If you're wondering... And please keep asking... My boys are doing good.