keeping secrets from a child

I haven't been here that long, but it has already taught me some tough lessons. My cousin, 9, lost her mother. Her mother's been sick for a while now. Now she has to confront other lies, other uncomfortable realities. She doesn't know what illness her mother had (her mother may have died from AIDS), or the disease her father is likely to be carrying.

I wrote about people dying young (scripts: Tragedy), but what about children who have to live with death at a young age. How does that affect them? The agony of living the rest of their days without the person they love. The secret nature of their grief. The "I'm ok" cliché you heard many times before. That meaningless, senseless "ok."

How to break it to them? How not to tell them? How to keep something so important, vital away from them? [The decision was made not to tell her about her mother's death. For how long, I don’t know]. When to tell? When not to tell? How to tell? Is it ever ok to keep it from them? How can you justify not telling a child about death, about her mother's death?
***Secrets destroy lives. So do half-truths. [And I speak from experience]. However hard it is to be open, honest with them, it doesn't measure up to the smallness, confusion, and betrayal the person you're keeping the secret from feels. Nothing is more demoralizing when everyone lies to you. They are keeping something from you, and you learn that in turn it is ok to lie as well. You aren't honest and forthcoming because they weren't, and it was ok for them to do it, so you have permission to do it as well. You figure, when they are honest with you, then you'll be honest too. And if they can keep something from you, then you can too. There's nothing wrong with that. Why bother living any other way?

You feel small for not knowing, and it's not like you don't realize it. You're not just supposed to care or acknowledge it. It's pretending. It's what kids do. We are reduced to kids again. When an adult teaches you to ignore certain truth and accept lies, then you are pretending for the rest of your life as long as you accept that lie. It hurts. It makes you feel stupid for not knowing. It doesn't make sense.

My story is less severe, but it's never been easy either: I know nothing about my father. I've never met him. No one is allowed to mention him to me. I could risk asking m, but I don't want to ruin my fragile relationship with her. They have erased half of me. They created a new father for me and pushed him on me. I'm just supposed to accept that this man is my father without any acknowledgment of my past. I'm bitter that I'm supposed to pretend. I'm bitter that there's no acknowledgement of my feelings, or of my curiosity.

Why doesn't they just let me know? Why is it so hard to say it? Don't they think it must be hard for me? When will this PRETENDING stop? I've grown up with fantasies. [I don't know how much of it is me or events that happened to me]. My life is better because I've spent my whole life fantasizing about the "what ifs"--the things I don't know, the things they haven't told me. I've never been a realist. Never. It's hard when there's a whole chunk of your life that you don't know, so you are free to fill in the blanks or change the story completely. I've done both.

I've come to the point where I have just accepted it for what it is. I don't think about it regularly--the dreaming and fantasizing. I think about it sometimes when I hear other people's stories. I feel like it's so pointless to dream about being rescued. It's so over for me. I'm not a kid anymore. I have to make things happen for me to know.

I've spent loads of time wondering about the unknown, the unseen. I've spent and I've used up uncountable lifetimes asking "why?" How can it be that I don't know, that I don't remember? Can I be the only one that cares? There's another half of me that I don't know.

I'm in perpetual confusion. Life is getting too hard for me not to care. I don't like thinking about this stuff because it just makes me sadder. Nothing in my life is coherent.

I envy them. I envy them all. I envy people who know. ***To look at their faces and in their eyes everyday, knowing that you've kept from them something that's going to haunt them for the rest of their lives, has to be punishing and draining. At least, I hope it would be so.

Random thoughts:
-- It rained again. Texas rain likes to scare. Its bark is always scarier than its bite. Texas rain is a tease.
-- I love coming here just to watch people. There’s just a different feeling here. The pace is slower, simpler. People live their lives day-to-day, day-by-day. There’s no urgency, hesitation, or worries about tomorrow. Life's hard; life's a struggle, but nothing's set in stone. Why not just enjoy today and worry about tomorrow later.